


The Hound & the Maiden Fair

by KellyJunglette



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Heartache, Love, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 71,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyJunglette/pseuds/KellyJunglette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this version of events, Sandor Clegane does not flee during the battle of backwater, but instead decides to stay and protect the little bird. Sansa Stark then goes on to marry King Joffery, which entwines in a long and complicated relationship with his most loyal of kings guard, The Hound.</p><p> </p><p>This is also my first ever fan fic, so go easy on me ;) I just enjoy reading them so much I thought I'd give it a go myself. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing. & Of course all characters belong to George RR Martin, & some text is taken from both the HBO show as well as from ASoIaF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa Baratheon.

**SANDOR**

Sandor Clegane planned on getting thoroughly drunk that night, even more so than usual. His day was to be spent following King Joffery around the castle, while he saw to tedious wedding arrangements _._  This was not a task that left him filling with joy, but it had become somewhat of a routine of late.

It was a cool and bright morning, sunlight poured through the glass of Joffery's chamber window. The young King stood facing his mirror, one leg rested on a small cushioned stool. "Here." He said, gesturing to his puffed out chest. "Higher." A gaunt looking servant man was pinning a brooch to one shoulder, his hands shaking in fear. It was a golden lions head, encrusted with several red rubies. _Of course_ , Sandor thought, doing all he could not to roll his eyes. The King spent a moment posing, brushing the fabric and picking off invisible hairs.

"Better."

The serving man let out a small sigh of relief.

When Joffery was finished twisting and turning, he gave himself a smug little nod and flattened the stomach of his doublet. 

"Thats all." He said plainly, sending the man scurrying away to where he once came.

Joffery did not so much as acknowledge Sandor as he entered, only clicked his fingers once, meaning that he should follow.This was no new gesture, but it still angered him each day.He gritted his teeth and followed. _I am meant to protect this King, such as he is, not follow him around like some obedient dog -_ his mouth twitched at the irony -  _such as I am._

First, he accompanied the boy to break his fast with Cersei, which was always a  _pleasant_ affair. Thankfully, not a very frequent one as The Queen Regent tended to relieve Sandor of his duties during this time, on the account that he 'frightened the children'. Today however, he was not so fortunate, and the little prince and princess were sent elsewhere. So, he listened to them spout shit at each other about bards, and singers and flowers for the best part of an hour, all while they cut into crisp bacon and runny eggs.  His stomach rumbled loud and empty. Sandor's own breakfast had consisted of half a horn of ale and some stale bread he had found on his bed side table. Afterwards, he followed the boy outside as they set up the wedding feast tent, listening to him moan and bark that it was 'simply not grand enough' for the wedding of the century.

"No flowers. I told you. And more banners, yes there. I want the Lion _above_ the Wolf. Not beside it, idiot." He quickly ordered most of it to be changed, sending the servants running around like scared little mice.  _Im not paid enough gold for this shit._ Sandor Clegane told himself. _Im not some fucking wet-nurse._ As the day went on his legs began to ache; they tended to when standing so long beside that bloody Iron throne. Sandor much preferred to be out on the field, patrolling the keep ... _or at least in some dingy alehouse, with a whore and flagon or two_. The King - of course - quickly grew tired of his wedding preparations, and kindly left the matter to his master of feasts, much preferring to hold court instead. 

So there he stood, in his usual spot, watching Joff send man after man to his death, for one petty crime or another. Spending so long stood doing nothing left him restless, and his mind kept wandering. Joffery was to marry the little bird on the morrow, and the thought of it alone made him _seethe_ with anger. He tried to fill his head with the taste of the thick Dornish red he would be glugging later that day, but it done no use. Even the idea of calving his great sword through the likes of Tyrion Lannister, wouldn't do the trick. The image of that little bastard putting his hands all over her caused him to grip the hilt of his sword so tight, his knuckles went white with strain. _Little cunt wouldn’t even know what to do with her._ He thought bitterly as he paced out behind him into the yard. 

Joffery spent the latter part of the afternoon playing with his crossbow, while Sandor and _Ser_ Meryn Trant stood idly behind, no one exchanging a word. _No bloody point me being here._ He grumbled to himself as he watched the King shoot arrow after arrow. The boy missed more often than not, and in all honesty, it seemed pointless to Sandor to even practice at all. _He's never going to bloody use it._  The boy hadn't put the thing down since he had it made a few days before.  _He'll never shoot an arrow through a mans skull. Not unless he's already tied up on his knees, begging for his life._ Besides, Joff usually liked Sandor to do his killing for him, and that suited him just fine.

The Hound had watched over the boy since he was a wee babe, a child with curly blonde hair that liked to suck his thumb. Over recent years however, he had witnessed him change from a clueless little boy into nothing but a cruel little monster. It was mostly his mothers doing he supposed, _twisted bitch always whispering things in his ear_. He had grown a lust for not only power like his mother, but for blood as well. Even when he was young, he would ask Sandor to bring him cats and birds for him to torture and kill. The prey had changed of late though, the cats and birds slowly became beggars and whores. Every time he brought the boy a new play thing, no one ever saw them again, including himself..But Sandor Clegane always done as he was bid, it was not his place to question little princes, never mind little Kings. 

On occasion, the Hound did find himself holding some kind of pity for the boy, for years he felt almost responsible for him. He was his dog, his sworn sword and shield. He had taken an oath to protect him. There was a time when he wanted to teach him how to fight - how to be a man. He needed a father figure, someone better than these _shits_  he was surrounded with. King Robert never seemed to care much for the boy, nor did his uncle Jaime. _Uncle or father, it needn't matter, he only cares about Cersei's cunt._ Sandor grimaced at the thought. Jofferys mother gave him a warped view of the world and he never had any real friends his own age. _No wonder he's fucked._ He thought, rubbing his beard. _He's a cruel, spoilt little child_ _…_ _with no idea what goes on in the real world. He wouldn't last an hour on the street of flea bottom._  Still, if he didn't get his own way he would throw a tantrum, or cry when his mother shouted at him.  _The most feared man in the seven Kingdoms. HA!_  Thats what the entire Seven Kingdoms had been lead to believe. Sandor chuckled to himself. _Truth be told he's just a green boy hiding behind his mothers skirts._

"Good shot your grace!"

He had missed, again.

 _Meryn Trant._  

Sandor rolled his eyes. 

_Cunt._

Joffery - clearly growing tired - clicked his fingers for another bolt to be cranked for him, while he sipped on a goblet of watered wine. Sandor watched as the ornate crossbow was wound and drawed back into place. _Too damn slow, what good would that be in a fight?_

"Bring the birds, this is growing dull."

An old leathery looking man who sometimes tended to the hawks, came dragging out a cage stuffed with flapping pigeons. As he reached inside to grab one they all squawked and thrashed their wings, sending out a whirlwind of feathers and bird shit. The boy returned to his new moving targets with a satisfied grin.

Again, the Hound grew bored and restless, the shirt underneath his armour was sticking to his chest. The air was thick and muggy, so much so he thought he might be able to cut a sword through it. Watching the birds fly away in fear reminded him of another...and uncontrollably, he let his mind go to her again, recounting every moment of the night he had visited her chamber. He must have played it over and over in his head a hundred times, though it never seemed enough. _I shouldn’t have kissed her._  Her face appeared when he blinked his eyes, but he shook his head and willed it away.

"Another bolt." Joffery spat. "Faster. I haven't got all day."

The Hound had never imagined himself to be a man turned stupid by a pretty face, but the little bird had done something to him that no one else ever had. He wanted to protect her, teach her, help her…. _Kiss_ her. And of course he wanted to fuck her. That was how he justified these feelings he had, he just wanted to fuck her _._   _Fuck her like every other man in this Keep wants to fuck a pretty little high born maid._ The problem was, she wasn't just a maid, she was still a child, no matter how much he told himself she wasn't. He may not have been a good man, but neither was he  _that_. It left the feelings he had buried deep down, under a blanket of wine, filling him with guilt and lust...close to driving him mad. Not to mention the fact that she was to be his Queen. A thought even punishable by death. _What would that little cunt do if he knew I'd imagined having her a thousand times?_

One of the pigeons dropped with a heavy _thump_ to the floor. He watched it panic and squirm, blood seeping out beneath it. He thought back to the girl, the morning he had found her in her chambers, trying to burn her sheets after the night she had flowered.  _Always trying to make everything seem so much better than it is._   _There was nothing flowery about the look on her face, or the blood smeared down her thighs._ The Hound gritted his teeth.  _These high born Lords would coat a shit in silver and call it a candlestick if they could._  

Joffery clicked his fingers.

"Bring me some cheese."

Sandor just couldn't help himself, his mind always went back to her. He blamed the boredom. He blamed anything he could to justify the thoughts. He was back in her room. It was night, black as pitch. He was on top of her. The sky was filled with swirls of green fire and smoke. _So much fire._ She was under him, shaking, his dagger to her throat. Her hand was on his face, she was touching him, running her fingers down his ruined cheek. No one had ever touched his face before. He had never _let_ them. Sandor took a song. She took a kiss. Her pouty little lips parted when he had pressed down his own. _She wanted it. She did._

"More wine." Joffery called.

Remembering himself, The Hound urged the thoughts away, a flash of anger protected him from the pain. He remembered how she had refused to leave with him, it turned his mood sour in an instant. _What did I expect? That we would run off into the sunset? Like she would of done with an ugly dog like me._ It almost made him angry, that he was foolish enough to think she might. But it made him angrier that it bothered him so, _why do I care? She's just a stupid girl._ He blamed it on the wine. _Too much fucking wine. Thats all it was_. 

Petyr Baelish came skulking out of the shadows shattering any more thoughts with his presence. The Lord had his hands firmly clasped behind his back, with that same false grin on his face, the one he always liked to wear. 

“Your grace.” Baelish bowed, though Joffery barely acknowledged him, releasing another arrow across the yard. It landed with a thump on an empty barrel. 

“You must be excited for the morrow.”

Joffery made a _pishh_ noise with his teeth. 

“It has been nothing but an annoyance. I've left my Mother to deal with it now. And the Stark girl is a fool. Pretty, but a fool. Talks too much. And I can’t stand the chatter of women.” He turned to Sandor, laughing. 

Joffery often spoke to the Hound like this, though he rarely responded. _He talks to me, not with me._   _Like you would a dog._

“She truly is a beauty, Your Grace.” Baelish noted. 

“A noisy one. Perhaps, I’ll gag her when I bed her tomorrow.” Amusement flittered across Joff's eyes. He looked off into the distance as if to picture it, before returning to his crossbow. 

 _Maybe I’ll cut off your cock and gag you with it._ Sandor Clegane thought, keeping his stare fixed ahead, jaw clenched and his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. He never showed his thoughts, nor emotions. Not only did it make him feel weak, he would have been a dead man by now if he did. He hated the idea of others seeing him anything but angry. Sandor Clegane wanted to be feared and respected, and he had watched enough stupid men talk themselves to their own deaths. 

Baelish let out a fake chuckle and stroked at his pointy beard. 

“Well your grace, if you require anything don’t hesitate to ask, you know I am rather adept in that area of _expertise_. My brothels are the finest in the Kingdom.” He smiled. "I wouldn't want the King to have an _unpleasurable_ wedding night." 

 _Slimy litter fucker that one._ Sandor Clegane could smell out a liar, and Peyter Baelish stunk to high hell. 

“A King doesn’t ask. He commands.” Joffery sneered, turning to the slender, now un-smiling man. He draped an arm over the short wall beside them, pointing his crossbow casually towards him. 

“I beg your pardon, your grace, I only wish to offer my _services_ to the King, does he require them. “ 

Joffery snorted out something he gathered was a laugh and began to pick at his crossbow tediously, like he did when we was sat upon the Iron Throne.

“As is happens…Now I come to think of it, I _may_ still need some of your services afterward Lord Baelish, no doubt Sansa will lie there on her back like a dead _fish_. All that Tully in her..” The King seemed to think his little joke was hilarious, as did _Ser_ Meryn, though Peyter only answered it with a hard smile.

“I will be awaiting your command your grace, I have the finest whores in the seven Kingdoms. Girls to suit every wish or whim you may desire. Any fantasies you have in mind..” He gave a little bow and slunk back off into the shadows.

Sandor always found himself agitated when in the presence of that slimy little cunt. There was something about him that got his blood up. He had envisioned his death several different times in several different manners. 

"His whores should be paying me. _I_ am the King. I'll charge a gold dragon for everyone he brings. The wedding will be paid for in a matter of hours." Joff chuckled. 

 _The boy thinks he knows how to fuck a woman._ He almost let out a laugh.

“Trant, Dog...” He waved his hand lazily in the air. “Walk me back to my chambers I’m bored. See to it that my mothers there, I wish to speak with her.”

When the boy King relieved him of his duties, Sandor marched back to his chambers with nothing on his mind but wine and women. All this thought of the little bird and Joff and the bedding had vexed him. His dark mood left him bitter and lustful, so he went to seek out the nearest red headed whore he could find. He bent her over the trencher table and downed a flagon of ale. Yet somehow they never seemed enough anymore. He knew she was faking it, pretending that she was enjoying it when she wasn’t, that pissed him off. But more than anything he was sick of how they dare not look at his face while he fucked them. They dare not look at his _scars_. Not one of them. He couldn't even spill his seed. It left him angry and almost ashamed, though he’d never let anyone know it.

He drank the sour red wine he loved so much until he staggered back to his chambers from a tavern just outside the castle walls. As he reached the stables, he stopped and patted Stranger, beautiful beast that he was. He stumbled on a rock, cursing himself for being so drunk. Then he was charging up the never-ending steps to his chamber, his hands pulling him along the walls. He kicked off his boots and slumped onto his bed, the room spinning around him. Sandor lay there in the darkness, every now and then taking a long pull from his wineskin. He liked the darkness, filling it with light from a flame seemed unnatural to him. He liked the silence too, it calmed him somewhat. It was a haven of sorts, the darkness. 

Sandor stretched out his aching legs, belched, and rested his head on his pillow. His eyes grew heavy, so he gave in and shut them. Immediately he was greeted with the green fire. His own men burning and screaming on their knees in front of him. The very flesh melting off their bones. The battle of Blackwater - it haunted him. The way those flames swirled across the sky. The fire. The burning.  _I had meant to flee._   _Tuck tail and ran._ The shame bubbled in his chest. He had never ran away from a fight, or even thought too.  _No one knows, they never will._ He told himself. _Besides, any man that did wouldn't dare question it, I'll crush their skull._

He became so maddened by bloodlust and fire, all he wanted was to seek comfort by seeing her, by touching her. He drank himself into a stupor and went to find her in her room, eyes wide and frightened. _Like a scared little bird._ Sandor told himself he was going to take her, whether she willed it or not, but as soon as he saw her face he knew he couldn’t. She looked so fucking beautiful and innocent, how could a man like him ruin something so perfect like her. Sandor Clegane refused to become the monster that his brother was. _A mans gotta have a code._

His eyes were open again, staring into the dark abyss above him. _She's to marry Joffery tomorrow._ The idea of that little prick putting his hands all over her made his blood boil. He prayed he didn’t have to stand guard outside his chamber while he had his way with her, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself controlled. It was dangerous, these feelings he had, he even found himself doing things to help protect her, it was putting them both at risk. If he carried on the way he had he was sure someone would know, and how he would be mocked for it. _I need to stop this, I’m no bloody fool. She’s just a stupid girl._ Though when he shut his eyes he saw her big blue eyes and her pouting lips; lips he imagined wrapping around his cock. It made him hard almost instantly, and the image wouldn't leave his mind. 

He was finding himself thinking of her more and more, leaving him at his wits end. He told himself that he just wanted to fuck her, nothing more, but something about the girl made him loose his head and act a fool, and he almost hated her for it. With one blink of those pretty blue eyes, his guard came crashing down around him and turned him into a love-struck little boy. He tried to shake off his thoughts and sat up, taking yet another long drink from his wineskin. _It’s just the wine_. He told himself, but the walls around him spun. The stone seemed to be shrinking in around him. He pulled at the laces around his collar. _Fuck_. He splashed his face with the cold stale water from his basin, but it was not enough.  _I need to get out of this bloody room_. He pushed himself off the bed and staggered to his feet, stumbling over empty bottles and skins. He found himself charging along the corridors of the keep, trying to shake off any thoughts he had of her, though once again he found himself walking to her chambers.

 

** SANSA **

 

Sansa couldn’t keep herself still, the looming thought of her wedding day forever playing on her mind. She hadn’t eaten a thing all day, she felt so sick with worry. Shae had tried to tempt her with lemon cakes and jellies, but she could scarcely look at them. The only comfort she found was in the Godswood, away from prying eyes and ears. Her servants had set up a table on the small stone folly that overlooked part of Black water bay. It was a beautiful spot, you could see right out across The Narrow sea. There she often watched the merchant ships slowly cross the horizon, with their colourful sails flailing in the wind. If she wasn't quite so petrified she may have stopped to enjoy the views again.

Sansa had sought to do some needlework to distract her from unease, but as soon as she threaded the needle it reminded her of her mother and how she wouldn't be there on her wedding day. Sansa missed her terribly. As much as she wanted to be a woman grown, she would have done anything to feel the embrace of her mothers arms once more.  _It wasn't supposed to be like this._  Her eyes squeezed shut and pictured Winterfell. Already the tears began to well up. Glimmers of her Mother's hands braiding her hair flashed before her, Lady sat curled up at her feet. For a second she could feel the warmth from the hearth in her old chambers, the smell of the rushes on the floor. Yet when she opened her eyes she returned to the new prison she called home. The one that she had once wished so very hard for. Sansa sighed. _I was so stupid. What I would give to return to The North._ She wondered if it even looked like home anymore, or if it was just a ruin. _Theon._ The notion turned her stomach and she decided to think of it no more. _He is the traitor, not Robb._

The autumn breeze tousled her hair as she pondered, the leaves scuttling around her feet. She wished she could stay there a little longer, not even praying, just enjoying the quiet and calm of its atmosphere. Although, that isn't to say she hadn't prayed. Sansa must have mouthed a hundred different pleas a thousand different times. It felt as though thats all she done of late, sit and cry and pray. Pray for someone to save her, for anyone to save her. _Another stupid thought from a stupid girl._  She sighed.  _There are no heroes in life, not like the songs. The monsters win._ The crickets began to chirp and the sun began to set across the sea, making for quite a spectacular sight. She watched the streaks of red and orange and pink through teary eyes. It looked as though she could see the very spot that Heaven met the Earth. She thought of her father with a heavy heart and prayed once more.  _Mother, just give me strength. I beg you._

A long silence followed. Filled only with the gentle rustle of leaves and distant crashing of waves.

Sansa began to hum, then sing...

 

 _And so he spoke, and so he spoke,_ _that lord of Castamere,_

 _But now the rains weep o'er his hall,_ _with no one there to hear._

 _Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,_ _and not a soul to hear._  

 

Sansa let her eyes glaze over the ships sailing in the distance, the gentle waves scattering the evening sun like the sequins on her dress. The hour was late by the time she pulled herself to her feet to leave, and made her way back to her chambers. She could feel the guards behind her start to follow, always watching her every move. The castle was bustling, everybody she passed chattering with excitement for the morrow. Servants were running backwards and forwards, carrying all manor of things. One of her hand maidens caught her as she entered the great hall and smiled sweetly.

“We were all wondering when you would return, M'Lady."

She said it as jittery as a mouse. _She looks like one too._ Sansa thought, eyeing her mousey brown hair and twitchy nose. _I wonder if she’s one of Cersei’s._

"Yes. You should be in your chambers my dear, get a good nights rest for the morrow.” Another much fatter handmaiden continued, notably in a much more insistent manner. Hmm..  _Definitely one of Cersei's._   

Sansa nodded and gave a weak smile.

"Of course."

"I will fetch some things for your chamber M'lady. I've fired the hearth, I shan't be long." 

_Thankyou, but I won't be sleeping a wink tonight._

The handmaidens did their fussing and curtseys, then scuttled off like the little rats that they were around the castle. Much to Sansa's relief the presence of her guards also deserted her, supposing they had slinked off to the kitchens for mead. Continuing her journey through the castle she reached the serpentine steps, lifting her skirts as she went. The sudden isolation made her feel almost uneasy, it was a very rare thing for her to be alone anymore. It made her heart race a little faster, and her mind swim with thoughts. _Stupid thoughts_ , thoughts of running away and slinking out of the keep at night in a hooded cloak. Thoughts of Robb bursting into her room with Joffery's blood on his sword. Thoughts she knew would be fruitless, yet she liked to think them none the less. 

Her heel buckled slightly as she ascended, suddenly being careful not to slip on the smooth stone steps.  _I am getting married tomorrow... Married._ Her heart seemed to sink and twist right down into her stomach. _I am to be…The Queen_. _The world is going mad_. She thought, tracing her fingers lightly along the wall.  _Or maybe it is me who is loosing my mind?_  She found herself nervously smoothing her skirts. _I am to loose my maiden head._  The nervousness in her seemed to bubble right up to her throat. The bedding ceremony was what she feared most. _It is my duty_. She tried to tell herself, chewing on the corner of her lip.Some of the ladies in court had warned her that it would be painful.Though her mother had always assured her it was a cherished and pleasurable affair. _Somehow Sansa knew that this would not be the case with Joffery Baratheon._ Some more serving girls passed her on the steps, awkwardly curtseying on the narrow stairs as she passed.Joffery had told her that there was to be a great surprise for them all too, _I wonder what he has planned?_ Nothing good she supposed. _He has been so secretive._  Sansa had heard that there was to be seventy-seven courses for the feast. _Seventy-seven_. _How ridiculous,_   _I’ll barely manage seven._

As she passed an open window in the tower, she stopped to feel the breeze blow softly on her neck. It pushed her hair over her shoulder and went tumbling down her back.Sansa perched up onto her tip toes to see out over the ledge.The sea was glistening in the moonlight, there were still some ships on the horizon. For a moment she thought they might have been Stark ships, if there ever was such a thing. She had always supposed that her Mother and Brother would have come for her by now, to save her. Surely they would never let her marry him, not now. _I must not give up hope. They may still be yet to come. They must..._

 “What’s the little lady doing wandering around at this hour?” Someone said from above, further up the serpentine steps. It was Sandor Clegane, she knew. No other voice was as deep nor as menacing as his.

 Sansa turned to look up at him, the extra steps above adding to his already towering height. Her head was swimming and she was sure she had stared at him speechless much longer than she had intended. He was wearing his old armor, not the shining white and gold of he kings guard, but the dull grey chain mail he wore before Joffery became King. His long black hair had fallen in front of his face, thankfully shadowing most of his scars.

 “I…I was praying in the Godswood, Ser. I’m just returning to my chambers.”

 “Praying to the Gods. For what? Your wedding on the morrow? The Gods can’t help you now girl, they never fucking will.” He took a long pull from a wineskin.

 _He's drunk._  She realised, suddenly feeling threatened. He stepped down to just above where Sansa stood, never breaking his stare.

“Pretty little maid like you, given to that little cunt. “ He laughed, lifting his head from the shadows of his hair.

 She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, all the courtesies she knew had fled her mind. All she could think of was that night, how he had kissed her. Sansa had hardly spoken with him since he had visited her room, and she was glad of it. That isn't to say he hadn't always been close though, there was nothing to be done about that. She glanced at his lips remembering how they pressed down against her own, it made her heart flutter and her cheeks blush.

The scars on his face twisted in the flicker of the candle light. Sansa lowered her gaze to the floor, but was met with a large calloused hand. He raised her chin, putting his face close to hers, staring right at her. He was so near, she could see every twist of scar and misshapen lump of skin that was stretched across his face. He smelt of sour wine, so strong she almost wrinkled up her nose. The moonlight above them lit up his features even more so, revealing his intense stare and furrowed brow. For a moment she thought he meant to kiss her.

 “I’d make you mine. If I could.” He rasped.

 Sansa took a breath, but before she could speak his hand left her chin and he had turned away.

 “Now go, little bird. Get some sleep. I don’t suppose your’ll be getting much of it tomorrow.” Sandor Clegane laughed bitterly, walking past her down the steps, hand on the hilt of his sword.

 His voice sang in her mind all the way back to her chamber. _Tomorrow is my wedding night. I’m to give Joffery my maidenhead_. A thought that once made her blush with excitement, now made her feel sick to her stomach _. I don’t want his wormy lips all over me._ She shuddered. _The Hound was right, I am just a stupid little bird._ Her feet were running now, though she couldn't remember telling them too.  _He scares me,_ she thought, slamming her door shut behind her. She threw herself onto the bed, squeezing her eyes shut tight. A flurry of images flashed through her mind. She saw her father on his knees in the stocks _,_ his head on a spike _._ She bit her lip. _He murdered my father. How could I have ever loved him, he’s a monster... And I am to be his wife._

Later Shae brushed her hair and tried to calm her nerves, though it did nothing to help the jittery feeling in her stomach. Sansa tried to mask her dark thoughts and worry with pointless chatter and nervous laughter. It must have worn thin because Shae grabbed her hand and said,

"I know you are scared, try not to be. You must be strong. You will be _The Queen of all of Westeros_ , my Lady. Do you know what that means? You are the most powerful woman in the seven Kingdoms. As of tomorrow he cannot treat you as he does now."

Sansa let out a very unladylike snort.

"I am a prisoner here, nothing more. Only with thick castle walls and gilded fences to replace otherwise iron bars. Nothing will change. It will only be worse."

Shae's voice lowered.

"You must be wise, my lady. Use it to your advantage."

She knew Shae was trying to console her, but she was not as stupid as she had once been when she first arrived to Kings Landing. She could see through the great facade now, though there was just nothing she could do to change it. _I have to play the game, I have no choice._ She had been traded away like a Shepard would a goat, _my happiness traded for what? My title? My name?_ She had done her best to make him happy, she smiled and nodded and kept her mouth closed. She let them think her stupid, it was the only thing she could think to do, _let them know that I am no threat._

There was one thing she felt that was protecting her from her and her _King_ however. A very unlikely one. Sandor Clegane had saved the girl from being beaten a growing number of times, one way or another.  _He said he would make me mine if he could._  She blushed again.  _Mayhaps he cares for me?_  She thought, _But he's the Hound, he doesn't care for anyone._ The notion that Sandor Clegane cared for her seemed almost ridiculous; so she tried to shake it from her mind. _Im so stupid._

Yet sometimes she would lie awake at night thinking of when he had come into her room, remembering the way he had kissed her. He came in the middle of the night, after the battle of Blackwater was won, the drunkest she’d ever seen him. He had left her his cloak, Sansa had hidden it under her summer silks in a cedar chest by her bed. He wanted her to leave with him, though she had refused. _I wonder if I was wise._ Sansa had tried to avoid him after that, though he seemed to follow her like a shadow sometimes. He was the first man to have ever kissed her, it sent her belly in a flutter. _Joffery can not be called a man._ She felt embarrassed and flushed. _If someone were to know_ … _If The King were to know!_ She wondered if he could ever feel her looking at him in court, when she let her eyes wonder over to him, though he never returned her gaze. She didn’t understand The Hound, he was always so harsh to her, yet he gave her kindness in the strangest of ways.

Sansa slipped her fingers along the silken mattress. Pressing her cheek into the cool velvet pillow. 

"Will it hurt?" She asked Shae faintly.

"The bedding?"

Sansa nodded.

"Perhaps a little…But nothing a _Queen_ cannot handle. I will be near by all night, I won't let him hurt you." she smiled softly, though Sansa could see the emptiness in her eyes. It was something no one could promise her, and she knew it well. Shae rested a hand lightly on her own. "It is something that gets better with time...and practice. Goodnight my lady, now get some rest."

 That night when she finally drifted off to sleep she dreamed that it was already her wedding night, she dreamt of Joffery’s eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only, he was bigger than Joffery had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. “ _I’ll have a song from you_ ,” he rasped, his big strong hands exploring her naked body. Sansa woke startled in the middle of the night, staring out into the darkness. She had a curious aching feeling within her that she had never felt before, and her chest was heaving. For a brief moment she felt something strange that she could only call longing. She stared up at the canopy, breathless, willing her mind to return to the dream. She could not get back to sleep after that, so she just lay there until light began to peer through her window and Shae came knocking on her door.

Later on, the other handmaidens filled her bathtub with steaming water and added lavender petals to try and calm her. Sansa gingerly stepped into the hot water, immersing herself to her shoulders and letting down her long auburn locks.

 “Do you think they will do the proper bedding ceremony?” She asked Shae as she swirled the water over her arms.

 “It is tradition my lady, though a strange one in my opinion.”

 “Don’t you have it in Lorath?”

 “No my lady.”

 Sansa shut her eyes. Shae trimmed her nails and curled her hair so it fell into ringlets that dangled down by her waist. Another maid plaited two strands of her hair at the crown of her head, in the traditional style worn in the capital. The other maids continued to fuss over her, dabbing perfume and ointments behind her ears and on her wrists. They smelled of summer flowers and sweet lemons, a scent that the Queen was also fond of. Her skin was massaged with oils until it glowed in the soft light that trailed in her window and her lips pinched until they were a rosy red. _I do hope I will look beautiful._ A rich berry pigment was rubbed onto her cheeks, giving her a flushing glow. Sansa thought of her dearest Mother and made a silent prayer that perhaps she would arrive today, along with Rob, to save her from this awful fate. She crossed her fingers behind her back while they powdered her nose.

Soon after, Cersei arrived with her handmaiden and seamstress, and watched Sansa as she dressed in front of the looking glass. The small clothes were a delicate cream silk, almost the colour of Sansas porcelain skin, and the wedding gown itself was beautiful, she could not deny it. It was everything she had ever dreamed of as a little girl growing up in Winterfell, though the man who would be taking it off tainted it. She tried to suppress a shudder. The dress was made of Ivory samite and cloth of silver, lined with a slivery satin and the shiny grey of her house sigil. Her corset was pulled so tight her breasts were pushed up high under chin, she was certain she wasn’t going to be able to eat a single bite incase it burst open. The skirts were long and full, inscrolled with ornate Myrish lace in dove-grey, that seemed to sparkle like the stars as she moved. Cersei waved her hand, calling over a maid holding the most beautiful silver and amethyst encrusted crown she had ever seen. It gleamed in the light as she brought it across to her on a velvet pillow. Wolves, stags and lions were all intricately carved into the metal, they almost seemed to dance and entwine together as she gazed at it. The shape of it was striking and unique, yet dainty and feminine. The girl placed it carefully on her head so it wouldn’t ruin her carefully formed braids. _Oh my,_  she realised.  _I have a crown._

 Sansa stared at her reflection, not quite recognizing the woman she saw looking back at her. She looked beautiful, a woman grown, a proper lady _, a Queen._ It was the day she had been dreaming about for so many years, yet nothing quite like she had imagined it. Indeed, Sansa looked the part, but that was all that could be said. _I am nothing but a pretty puppet._ The harsh reality of it all stung her and tears began to well up in her eyes. _Please Mother, save me. Please be waiting outside the castle walls with an army. Please._ A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Your prettier when you don’t cry Sansa.” Cersei said raising from her chair. Her gown was equally magnificent, Lannister red and gold brocade with a deep v-cut neckline and a ruby encrusted lion around her long neck. She moved with effortless grace, it left Sansa in awe. 

 “You look very beautiful” The seamstress said when she was finally dressed, tugging on the bodice.

 “I do don’t I?” Sansa gave a little sigh and swirled her skirts around, but she couldn’t dismiss the doleful feeling in her heart.  _No matter how lovely I look it wont change Joffery_. She thought bitterly. The beautiful silk clothes, the ornate jewelry, the sweet smelling fragrances and lavish surroundings, none of it seemed to matter anymore, not as long as she would be married to  _him._ More hot tears began to fall down her cheeks but Shae patted them dry with a piece of cloth.

“Come along now, they will be waiting.”

She followed the Queen out of her chambers with her small army of maids behind her, carrying the long skirts of her dress so they didn’t touch the floor. She felt a little dizzy, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, and no matter how hard she tried, the tears just kept rolling down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying little dove? Was this not once a day you once dreamed of?”

“Today will be the happiest day of my life, your grace.” Sansa almost didn't have to think when she spoke anymore. Her lines were well rehearsed. _I wonder if I could be in a mummers show?_ She mused. _I already spend my days pretending, like the men do in their shows across the seas._

But of course Cersei saw through her lies and gave her a sideways smile.

“Just wait until the day you bear his children sweetling.”

Cersei left with her maids to a smaller entrance to the sept, while Sansa made her way towards the main doors. A prickle of heat rushed up her neck.  _It’s actually happening. I’m marrying Joffery._ The sudden realisation made her head spin so much she thought she might faint. She wanted to turn around and run, as fast as her feet could carry her, yet she found herself bolted down onto the floor. Shae and the others left her standing there alone, while the great carved wooden doors began to open. It was all happening so fast. A sea of faces turned around to look at her and she felt her cheeks begin to blush. She was terrified, _I wish I had father here to walk me down the isle, to give me courage._

In place of Ned Stark was the new acting Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister, father to the groom. He met her with his arm extended, meaning for her to take it, yet not saying a word. He wore a grand doublet of black and red velvet, covered with golden scrollwork and pinned with the hand broach at his chest. His black leather boots reached above his knees and a golden chain of rubies sat around his wide neck. Sansa took his arm and began to walk down the great marble steps, taking care not to trip over her flowing skirts. Her eyes glanced over all of the Lords and ladies that attended, some of which were faces she had never seen before. The Hounds tall figure stood ominously beside King Joffery, his expression unreadable, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. He wore the shiny white and golden armour of the Kings guard, with the long white cloak hung from his broad shoulders. _He can’t protect me now._ She thought sadly, returning her gaze to her _King._

Joffery stood waiting for her surrounded by his Kings guard atop the steps that fronted the broad marble plaza, the statue of King Baelor the blessed gazing down upon him benevolently. He was staring at Sansa, his worm like lips curving into a sly smile, with one hand clasped on his belt. He wore a beautiful golden and cream embroidered doublet, with a red velvet robe draped across one shoulder. When she reached him she gave him a shy smile, and glanced up at the high septon who was about to wed her. The septon asked the King to give her his protection, to which he shook out the cloak of wolves and stags in a flourish. Joffery placed it carefully over her shoulders, and surprisingly gently. Sansa could feel all of the eyes in the room on her while they exchanged the vows, not daring to look back. _Its all happening so quickly._  The tears had stopped, she was too scared to cry. Once the septon wrapped their hands together, the two of them were one, husband and wife.  All the dreams she’d had as a girl of marrying a gallant Knight tasted of ash now — desolate and bitter on her tongue. She swallowed them down.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love!” The King exclaimed, pulling her close and pressing his cruel lips against her own. He kissed her long and deep, a kiss that reminded her of another, of The Hound. Yet this kiss did not give her the same delight she felt the night of the battle, nor the jittery feeling in her stomach that followed, it only left an emptiness, almost a repulsion. The High septon solemnly declared Joffery of the House Baratheon and Lannister, and Sansa of the House Stark to be one flesh, one heart and one soul. When she walked outside the doors of the sept, she was _Sansa Baratheon, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms._


	2. A Wedding Gift.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Wedding Gift from the King.

_She looks like a woman grown._ Sandor Clegane thought to himself as she walked down the isle. _She looks fucking beautiful._ He stole a glance at her while everyone else was watching her enter the sept. The dress she wore clung to her hips and revealed curves that Sandor had only ever dreamed of. He quickly teared his eyes away, before anyone had the chance to notice. The boy King was beaming, and had been all morning as he boasted of how many times he planned on having her later that night. Sandor felt like shit from all of the wine he had devoured the night before, so he soothed himself the only way he knew how, more wine. He slipped off down to the kitchens and necked a skin before having to escort Joff to the sept, in the hope it may shake the sickness in his stomach. _Tasted like watery piss._  He told himself, yet the wine had only seemed to agitate him further. As the little bird approached closer he could see the fear on her face, _smell_ her pain, her eyes were wide and scared like a child's. Joffery took her hand and smirked.

Sandor stood like the good dog that he was and watched the long ceremony take place - and it was a _very_ long ceremony. He started to wish that he had taken a piss before he left the Red Keep.  _How much bloody longer?_  He grew impatient. The old cunt wouldn't stop ranting on about the seven this, the stranger that. Oh and love. _Pffft love._ Lords and Ladys weddings seemed so bloody false to Sandor. _They're all built on lies. Just arranged to better their bloody house name or coin purse. Its not love. Its lies._  And Sandor hated lies. _Why not marry them and be done with it._  The court had all fallen for the tale though it was true, as had the people of Kings Landing. The love that the young couple had would bring back the North and South as one again, and the War would be over.  _Blind and stupid, all of them._ They were all smiling, the crowd _- smiles bought with coin._ By now he had drowned out the dull tone of the new High Septons voice, unaware that the service was nearing its end. He continued to stare carefully ahead, eyes far away from the couple at the alter, studying the familiar faces of the court. Then with no warning, he saw the boy kiss her in the corner of his eye and he felt his mouth twitch.

_That’s it. She’s married to that little cunt._

His lungs felt tight in his chest.He wondered if the girl thought it better now, now that she was Queen. Of course he knew otherwise, if anything it was only to get worse, _much bloody worse_. Cersei was the true Queen, _and will make sure of it till her last breath._  The new Stark Queen was no more than a pretty puppet, one that held the North - one that would be used and ridden until seen fit. Joyful cheers and applause filled the air, echoing throughout the entire sept. The bells began to ring loud and bellowing, and the new regal couple turned to their new subjects.

A subtle hint of hatred flashed within her eyes, quickly concealed with a wide grin. She had been very careful of late, only speaking when spoken too, smiling and agreeing with every snide remark the young King made. She never spoke of knights or _sers_. She barely even whimpered when being beaten anymore. The mask she wore grew tighter and tighter, yet, Sandor could still see her misery deepening everyday. She was a shadow of the young excitable girl that arrived in Kings Landing a handful of moons ago.  _Maybe she's learning that this life is not some fucking song._  

He followed the newly wed couple out of the sept and back towards the Red Keep in their golden litter, stopping briefly to accept congratulations from the High Lords and Ladies. Ser Addam and the gold cloaks held back the crowd, while the great stature of Baelor the Blessed looked down on them benevolently. Sandor Clegane swung up onto strangers back and lurched into motion with the rest of the guests. He was careful to watch the commons, though they were cheering Jofferys name, there were shouts for bread and food as well. The war was spreading famine within the city, but the crown had coin for a seventy-seven course feast. It wasn't unlikely this information had been widely spread, and widely condemned. He watched both the pair and the crowd warily as they were helped into their litter.

The wedding feast had been set up just outside the throne room, in the outer yard, safe within the castle walls. Banners, flags and pennons had been hung everywhere. Yellow, red and grey. Baratheon, Lannister and Stark. Joff took the little bird arm in arm and whispered in her ear as they walked up the steps to where they would be seated on the dais. A pavilion of golden silk had been raised, to shelter them from the afternoon sun. He watched the back of their heads as he followed, like a good dog. 

Sandor took his usual place behind Joffery, while Meryn trant stood behind the little bird in his shining white cuirass. Cersei embraced the little bird and kissed her cheeks. Lord Tywin did the same, and then Lancel and Ser Kevan. When the King and Queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to lead a drone prayer.

"Let the cups be filled!" Joffrey proclaimed, when the gods had been given their due. His cupbearer poured a whole flagon of dark Arbor red, The King had to use both hands to lift it. "To my wife the queen, long may we rule!"

"Long may you rule" the sea of faces shouted back at him. A thousand cups rang together, and the wedding feast was well and truly begun.

The air slowly filled with the dull roar of laughter and gentle chatter as the seats were swarmed by guests. One by one, all the lords and ladies began to bring over their gifts and wish them well. Lord Tywin presented a valyrian steel long sword with a carved lions head hilt that had rubies for the eyes. _Shame he’ll never fucking use it,_ he thought. _Give the thing to me, always fancied myself some valyrian steel._  The boy pranced about with it for a time while the crowd cheered and _'oooh'd'_ at the spectacle. He swung it carelessly past the little birds head just to scare the shit out of her. She gasped and threw her hands up in front of her face, to which the crowd laughed hysterically. _Laughter bought with coin and fear._

After the crowd died down, the imp gave them some tatty book that looked even older than Pycelle, but Joffery cut up into shreds, much to Sandors delight. He hated the Imp, he hated how someone so small in stature could make him feel even smaller. Many times the dwarf had mocked him in one way or another, and every time he had imagined all the different ways he could kill him. It brought him great joy as he watched him waddle away with his head to the floor.

Next up were some of the flowery lords from High Garden offering all manner of things to the newly weds, all with fake smiles and deceitful eyes. Flowers, tapestries, exotic perfumes and lavish jewellery.  _Every one of them trying to get as far up Joff’s arse as they can._ He sighed with irritation. Lord Mace Tyrell went the extra mile, presenting a golden chalice, three feet tall, with two ornate handles and seven faces glittering with gemstones. Sandor almost grunted a laugh.  _What the fuck he gonna do with that? Wash his balls in it?_

"Seven faces for Your Grace's seven kingdoms," The fat little lord explained.

He showed them how each face bore the sigil of one of the great houses: ruby lion, emerald rose, onyx stag, silver trout, blue jade falcon, opal sun, and a pearl direwolf. The little bird seemed to think it beautiful, but the boy quickly waved it away. Sandor had heard that Mace Tyrells daughter was to marry Tommen in due time, or thats how he had overheard it in the tower of the hand. He supposed he was trying to buy favour. 

Eventually, when all of the gifts were given the seventy-seven courses of food came pouring out. By then Sandor was sweating under his armour in the hot of the mid day sun, and wanted nothing more than it to be over so he could go and have a drink, well away from all the _sers_ and flowery Lords. He stood silent through all of the bards and stupid entertainment, though one performance did make him smile. Five dwarves came flooding out of nowhere fighting each other with wooden swords, each one dressed up as one of the usurpers. One of them - he guessed was supposed to be Stannis - was riding the red woman as a horse, though it looked as though he was fucking her. When the boy king suggested Tyrion should go down and join in, well, the look on the little Lords face was priceless. _This day is taking a turn for the better,_  he thought grumbling with laughter. Then to top it off the boy King poured the entire contents of his goblet right on top of the little pricks head. Sandor hadn't laughed that hard in weeks. 

As the celebrations continued, Joff became more and more drunk, he could not seem to quench his thirst for wine. Eventually Sandor excused himself and went and found a privy to relieve himself of his own mornings wine. He stretched his head back as he hastily unlaced his breeches enough to free his cock for a piss. There were times a piss felt as good as killing a man, and this was one of them. By the time he had returned, Joffery had started to spit out insults at his guests, and throw food and goblets at the dancers below him. No one expected any less, no one dared even look him in the eye. Jaime tried to distract him, his mother tried to calm him, not that either done any fucking use. 

'KNEEL!' Joffery kept shouting. 'Kneel before your king.' 

He laughed hysterically as all his guests subjected to his wish. The Hound did not kneel. And Joffery never asked him too. He was glad of that. Out came another course of some roasted beast, its mouth stuffed with an apple, surrounded by cloves. Joffery began to tear at the meat, stuffing mouthful after mouthful into his face. A serving girl gingerly cut the little bird a piece. 

"Aren't you hungry?!" He said turning to her, she shook her head. Her hands were still firmly clasped in her lap, her new shiny crown perched on her head. She hadn't said a word, though Sandor had not expected her too. Other than mutterings of thanks to the lords and ladies that is. She mouthed something faintly but it was drowned out by bards, lutes and pipers.

The sun was setting and the mood was changing. By now many of the guests were drunk and dancing together before them. A troupe of Pentoshi tumblers performed cartwheels and handstands, standing upon each other’s shoulders to form a pyramid. Some of the guests had decided to try it for themselves, much to The Kings amusement. Sandor started to turn his thoughts to the upcoming night, where the little bird would be sleeping, in that little cunts _bed._ He squeezed the hilt of his sword and stared off into the distance, trying to think about something else. _Anything_ else. The harper was playing _Maiden, Mother, and Crone,_ a song his mother once loved and sung to him at a young age _._

But The Hound cared not think of her, so his mind went to his brother. Memories he had of them two growing up in Clegane Keep, when he was just a boy. He wondered where he was now, he wondered if he felt any remorse for the harrowing things he had done. But those were thoughts he didn’t much want to recall either. Luckily Joff's shouts interrupted him, the boy turned to Sansa.

 “Oh, I had almost forgot. I have too, brought you a wedding gift, my Queen.” He said taking her delicate little hand in his own. She blushed.

“Thankyou, your grace. You are too kind.” She sounded just like the pretty little bird that she was, reciting all the words her septa had taught her. Joffery ushered over some serving girls carrying a little velvet pillow, on top was a sparkling pile of rubies and diamonds on a golden chain.

"Its magnificent, I helped design it myself." Cersei was sure to say.

 “My Queen needs jewels as equal to her beauty. ” The King announced getting to his feet. The guests began to applaud.

 The Hound saw her lips curve into a thin smile from the corner of his eye. He suddenly realised it was one of the few times that he had ever seen her smile. Meryn Trant stepped back as the boy clasped the necklace around her long swan like neck. He wanted so badly to look at her, to trail his eyes down from her neck to her chest.

"Yes, yes, shhh." He spat at the crowd as they clapped.

“I have brought you another present, Sansa. One I think you will like much.. _much_ more.” This time a grin spread across Jofferys face, not the friendly cheerful kind but one much more sinister. The tone of his voice went thick with sarcasm. _What now?_

 He clicked his fingers and ushered someone towards them.

 _What game is he playing..._ The little bird kept up her weak smile, though she knew just as well. _He’s up to something._ The crowd seemed to stir in their seats, the drunken dancers suddenly still and quiet. Cersei and the Imp glanced at each other nervously. 

 “Thankyou, My King. Truly. You shouldn't have.”

"Oh but I should."

Several servants came rushing over, all carefully carrying an enormous silver platter with a satin covering draped over it. When they reached the high table they placed it down right in front of her. There was a long pause were she did not move an inch; the sea of guests grew silent. Joffery stood and swayed as he did, leaning on the table in front of him, flicking his velvet cape over his shoulder.

 “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?” Joffery shouted, clearly, so all the guests could hear. She looked up at him with eyes full of dread. When the girl returned her gaze to the mound of satin, she took deep breath and winced.

'Don't be so ungrateful my Queen. It cost me a great deal to acquire this for you."

She sighed, not wanting to upset him. Cautiously the girl began to lift the fabric, her delicate hands pulling it back a little at a time. Sandor could see how much they were shaking even from afar.

"Hurry up!"  Joffery snapped. "We haven't got all night!"

Grabbing and pulling back the fabric himself, the scene that followed was an unforgettable one. The little bird screamed so loudly the whole of the Kings Landing must have bloody heard her. The fabric fell to the floor and revealed Sansa’s brother’s head staring back at them, grey from tar and rotting at the eyes. A big juicy red apple had been shoved in his mouth with figs and raspberries surrounding the rotting flesh of his cheeks. The face was almost unrecognizable; in fact it didn’t really look like a face at all. Sandor was only sure it was him because of the iron crown still sat on his head. _Robb Stark._ This was fucking cruel even for Joffery _. Horrible little cunt._ The Hound suddenly wondered what it would be like to have his own brothers head given to him on a platter. The guests and lords on the head table began to shout and panic _._ Others began to scream too.He grabbed the hilt of his sword.

 Sansa wretched and pushed the tray away so it fell with a crash on the floor, she fell back as though she were about to faint but Sandor jumped forward and caught her just before she hit the floor. She didn’t even seem to realise he caught her, just stared back up at Joffery with her mouth open. He tried to pull her to her feet but she was shaking so much she nearly toppled over. The guests started gasping and shouting 'Rob Stark!', 'The head of Rob Stark', other women started fainting at the sight of the severed head that was now rolling across the floor. 

“You evil little…” Tyrion was shouting in disbelief, rushing over to the girl. Someone was laughing but he couldn't recall who. 

 Sandor wanted to scoop her up over his shoulder and take her away, he didn’t want the dwarfs hands on her, trying to comfort her, only his own. The imp reached out to take her hand though she pulled away before he even got near. It was Joff laughing. The boy king was laughing fiercely, spilling his wine all over the floor, clutching at his belly. _He is mad._

Sansa looked up at Sandor for a moment, tears welling in her eyes, speechless, terrified, then... she ran. She pushed past everyone and ran.

 “Where are you going? Your bitch mother’s head is here too would you like to see?” Joffery shouted after her as she dashed across the marble floor. Her little crown fell from her head and it rolled all the way back to Jofferys feet.

 “Dog, after her.” He snapped. “I want the bedding when she returns.”

 The smile that spread across his face made Sandor want nothing more than to slice him in half with his greatswordand and split those slimy little lips in half. All in a frenzy of blood and guts right there, in front of them all. _Push me a bit further boy, lets see how much it takes..._ The rage inside him was bubbling. Though... ever loyal, Sandor stormed after her, just like he was told.

He found her in her cage, just where he knew he would. _Where else can she go?_   She was on her balcony, draped over the wall. Her upper half hung over the edge, looking down at the long jagged drop below. As he grew closer he could hear her sobbing her little eyes out, some of the cries getting lost in the wind. Her feet were bare, pressed up onto her tip toes as she stared over the edge.  _She wants to jump._ He realised.He walked right up behind her, but she was so distressed he did not think she could tell.

“The little bird thinks she can fly.” He rasped, making her tremble so much she almost fell, if it weren't for his iron grip around her wrist. She turned around and stared up at him, he saw then that she was clutching a doll, something you might give a child. _She might look a woman grown, but she’s still a little girl._ He tried to put the thought out of his mind and began to think whether he’ll have to scoop her up and carry her back to the feast, or whether she’d come by herself. In truth, he wanted to carry her, he couldn’t help but want to touch her whenever he bloody could.

“They…they’re..I’m the only one left..” Was all she managed to choke out. Sansa looked up at him desperately, her eyes red and glassy from crying. _She still looks fucking beautiful even with snot and tears all over her face._ She let out a little cry and with no hesitation, threw herself at him, pulling her body close against his own. _Willingly._ She was sobbing, her head pressed against his chest, so tightly he could feel the warmth of her. She looked so bloody delicate he was almost afraid to touch her. She had her arms wrapped around his back, clinging onto him like she never wanted to let go.

 “Little bird…” He rasped, fighting every urge in his body not to grab hold of her. He stood still as a statue, half afraid the boy King were to walk in and see them. They stood there for a long moment, in silence, the only noises coming from the little birds sobs. She tightened her grip on his back and his affections got the better of him, the invisible guard came tumbling down. He placed his hand on the small of her back, the other gently on the back of her head. He wasn't sure what to do. She was so close he could smell her, smell the sweet scent of her auburn hair. The little bird was right there, in his arms _. Seven hells._

 She pulled herself back to face him, yet she didn’t tell him to let go or not to touch her, but only gazed at him with wide eyes and pouty lips, tears running down her cheeks. _She doesn’t want me to let go of her._ He realised, _I could just kiss those pretty little lips and she might not even fight it._

 “I’m so sorry. I…I should have gone with you. When…when you wanted to leave. I’m so _stupid._ ” She curled her hands into little fists and thumped them gently against his chest. “You would have kept me safe. You would have protected me.”

 Before he could find an answer another voice came from the doorway.

 “What’s going on here Clegane?” Both Sandor and the little bird jumped right out of their skin, pulling away from each other instantly. The little bird jumped back so fast she almost fell over her own feet. The imp stood eyeing them suspiciously, his brow furrowed. _Fuck, he saw me holding her._

 “I…I was just bringing the little bird back-“ He stumbled. Sandor Clegane was a bad liar, and he knew how guilty he sounded.

 “I’ll escort the Queen back to the feast. Hound, go find a tree to piss on.“  

He didn’t wait around and marched straight back to the feast tent, his jaw firmly clenched. _She smelt so fucking good._ He found himself wondering if she smelt that good everywhere. _How can I think about that now? When she’s just had her brothers bloody head, served to her on a platter. I am a sick fuck. An old sick, twisted dog. She deserves better. How could I ever think she would want an old cunt like me? Something so fucking pure and innocent as the little bird and all I want to do is fuck her bloody when she’s got tears running down those pretty little cheeks._ He was fuming now, both with himself and the boy KIng; he wanted nothing better than to stab that little prick in the heart with his own fucking sword. Yet when he reached the great hall doors, he took a breath and punched the stone wall instead, over and over until his fists were bloody.

"Lord Tyrion is returning her, your grace." He rasped.

"Well go back and get her. I want her here now."

Sandor clenched his jaw and turned on his heel.

 _Someone get me some fucking wine._  

 

**SANSA**

The following few days after Sansa’s wedding, in all honesty she could not much recall. It seemed as though she were trapped in a droplet of water, trapped in some soundless oblivion in which only she existed. Her head felt as though it were stuffed with linen, her heart hollow and her body numb. When people spoke to her it was as if she was not in the same world, only watching from outside. The tears just seemed to roll down her cheeks involuntarily, she never even noticed when they did or didn’t anymore. Sansa spent most of her time in the Godswood, alone. She liked it there, it meant not having to speak to anyone, or see anyone. Joffery would never come there, she knew, it was the only place she felt remotely safe. _Safe, there is no such thing._ She thought bitterly.

Shae kept fussing over, telling her to eat and sleep. Yet she couldn’t seem to do either, the very thought of food made her feel queasy. _What if they serve me lunch and its someone else’s head?_ It almost made her retch and she had refused to eat a bite ever since. No matter how tired she was, the nightmares still came to her. When she could not sleep she lay under her blankets shivering with grief. The new Queen of Westeros felt painfully weak, it seemed like too much of an effort to even bother getting dressed anymore, though Shae would insist. _So much death. Perhaps I will die too_ , she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her anymore. If she flung herself from her window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her.

 It was starting to rain in the Godswood, though the breeze wasn’t too chilly. Sansa didn’t mind, the rain felt nice against her skin. The coldness made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. It was beautiful there, the sun was half hidden behind clouds, only a swords breath from the horizon. The sky had turned a glorious pinky colour, spotted with grey splodges of looming cloud. Then the grey reminded her of the colour of her brothers cheeks. She had heard her mothers were the same, though she was glad to say she had not seen it herself. 

 “We should go back your grace, your dress will get ruined.” Shae told her from afar.

 “No its alright, I think I’ll stay a while longer.”

 “Your grace, please. You must come back, you’ll get a chill. I’ll prepare you a bath. Let me fetch you some lemon cakes. You love lemon cakes.”

 “No its quite alright, you go back. I’ll return soon.”

 “I’m not leaving you.”

 She had had enough by then. _Why won’t you all just leave me alone?_

"Leave me." she repeated once more.

"No."

 “Your Queen demands that you leave me be!” She snapped, pursing her lips.

"Your being a child!" Shae spat back, her deep brown eyes narrowing.

"Your refusing to obey orders from your Queen. An act sentencable by death."

Shae quickly bowed her head.

"Has your _entire_ family been murdered by your own husband? Then forced to sleep with him every night? Has everyone your've ever known been killed? Are you a prisoner in your own chambers? A prisoner in your own mind?" Sansa's voice was breaking under the anger. "I SAID LEAVE ME BE!"

For a moment there was silence, only filled with the autumn breeze whistling through the trees of the Godswood. 

"As it happens, all of my family are dead too." Shae replied, before adding.. "Your Grace".

The handmaiden turned on her heel and left.

Sansa turned to watch her climb the steps back to the castle. She knew the guards wouldn’t be far anyway, but it was the closest she could get to be being alone anymore. She tried to close her eyes but every time they shut she saw Robbs face, and the rotting flesh around his dead eyes. Then her fathers when Joffery took her up to the and made her look at it. Sansa wanted to pray to the mother, to the maiden, even to her fathers Gods in the wood, though she didn’t see the point anymore. They had never heard her prays before, only given her worst nightmares. All hope was gone now. There was no one left to save her. _They are dead. They are all dead. Dead. Dead. Dead._

The night before she dreamt of footsteps on the tower stair, an ominous scraping of leather on stone as a man climbed slowly toward her bedchamber, step by step. All she could do was huddle behind her door and listen, trembling, as he came closer and closer. It was Ser Ilyn Payne, she knew, coming for her with Ice in his hand, coming to take her head. There was no place to run, no place to hide, no way to bar the door. Finally the footsteps stopped and she knew he was just outside, standing there silent with his dead eyes and his long pocked face. That was when she realized she was naked. She crouched down, trying to cover herself with her hands, as her door began to swing open, creaking, the point of the greatsword poking through . . .

 She woke murmuring, "Please, please, I'll be good, I'll be good, please don't," but there was no one there to hear.

 The rain was falling a little heavier now, and Sansa felt her hair starting to stick to her shoulders. _It wont be long until they get someone to fetch me and return me to my cage. I’ll just stay a few moments longer. Just a little longer._ The peaceful atmosphere that the Godswood had, seemed to soothe her sadness, if only slightly, but it helped all the same. She shut her eyes and pictured home. It was her safe place. The thick granite walls, all of the sky high turrets surrounding it, the big heavy drop bridge that crossed the moat. Inside the walls its air was always warm and thick from the hot springs. The bustling great hall was full of happy familiar faces. The beautiful tapestries that hung above their heads as they feasted on pies and pastries. She saw the face of her friend Jeyne Pool, laughing and playing with her braids. She saw her uncle taking a swig of ale. Old Maester Luwin making a jest with Septa Mordane. Hodor muttering 'Hodor' while a stable boy teased him. So many faces came back to her, ones she had not seen for what felt like an age. And one's she supposed she would never see again. Behind her, her mother and father sat side by side, holding hands and watching them all. The grey direwolf sigil swaying proudly above their heads. Arya was there too, her face all grubby with dirt. So were Bran and Rickon running around after each other playing silly games. And Rob. Rob was smiling at her, his eyes twinkling and full of life. She began to hum the song her mother sang to her when she was little… and for a second she forgot where she was entirely and all that had happened to her.

 “What are you doing little bird?.”

 The voice made her jump, then she was back, back in Kings Landing. Back in the foreign place she was now forced to call home. Though the face looking back at her was a familiar one. Sandor Clegane was wearing his shiny gold and white armour; it seemed to shimmer even more so with the water dripping off of it. His black hair was all stuck to his face. The rain was falling harder now, Sansa had to squint her eyes to see him through the drops.

 “I’m fine.”

 “I didn't ask how you are girl, I asked what it is your doing out here in the rain."

 The deep rumbling sound of his voice was strangely comforting along with the soft patter of water.

 "Thinking." 

Sansa turned away to stare off towards the sea, eyes flickering.

"Thinking will only make it worse. Come back inside little bird. Now.”

 “I’m fine.” She insisted. _I wish everyone would stop hassling me. Why can’t they just leave me alone. I just want to be alone._

 “No your bloody not. You wanna sit out here in the rain and freeze then fine. Where’s that bloody hand maiden of yours?”

 “I sent her away.”

 "You want to do this on your own?" He gruffed a laugh. "Good luck." 

 Sandor came and stood in front of her, forcing her to look at him. His dark hair was sticking to his face, his eyes squinted in the rain. Sansa hadn’t seen much of The Hound since the wedding, yet she always felt as though he was near, like she could feel his presence. Sansa didn’t mind though, The Hound didn’t seem to scare her anymore, he actually made her feel quite  _safe_. Then she almost laughed at the notion,  _there is no such thing as safe_.

 "I….I am not alone. Not when I am here. I have the Gods.."

 He laughed hard at that. A flash of lightening lit up his face and for a second, he looked positively frightening. It made her jolt, though after she was met with soft eyes and water dripping off the end of his nose.

 "If there are gods, little bird, they made sheep so wolves could eat mutton, and they made the weak for the strong to play with. Your a wolfling girl, stop acting like the mutton."

"But they are all dead, Joffery…he  _murdered_ them! My family. All of them...dead!"

 “Yes. But crying won't bring them back girl.” He continued. "Don't think I won't pick you up and carry you over my shoulder either."

 Water was rolling down her cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure if it was rain or tears. He pulled the white cloak from his back and placed it over hers. He held his hands there on her shoulders, just for a moment longer than he needed to, but enough for Sansa to notice. She forced herself to look at him properly, to look inside his mysterious grey eyes. For the first time she realised that they were not so filled with hate, but also kindness. There was honour in there, in those eyes, she felt it.

 “Your grace!” Shae was calling from the steps behind, with a small army of other hand maidens following her, shawls all pulled up over their heads.

 “You must come inside, you’ll get a chill. The King is asking after you, he mustn't see you like this. Ive had to call the guards..!"

 The other ladies took her arms and urged her back towards the castle, the scratchy cloak still draped around her shoulders. _I just wanted to be alone._ _Though, I am alone now. Mother, Father, Robb, Bran, Rickon and probably Arya too. I’m the only one left._ The thought made her sad again. _I wish Lady were here._

"For fuck sake."

Sandor Clegane scooped her up around the waist and lifted her off the floor as she struggled feebly. Carrying her through the howling wind, all the way back to the keep. 

 “Look after her.” She heard him say from behind as they reached the iron door.

 “I am looking after her.” Shae snapped back at him, her arm wrapped tightly around her.

 “Fucking looks like it.”

 As they reached the hall Shae snatched off the cloak and tossed it back to him and they made their way back to her chambers. She was shivering from the cold now and suddenly anxious. It was no way for a lady to behave, she just couldn't face returning to the beautiful room she calls a prison.

"I just wanted to be alone. I'm..I'm sorry." She said as the ladies ran her a hot lavender bath.

 Shae put her hands on Sansa's sholders and looked her firmly in the eye.

“Don’t apologise your grace, you’re the Queen now. ”

She looked at the other serving girls and lent close to Sansa's ear. "It will get better. I promise. You cannot let him win. You are a Stark. You must be strong. You must save yourself now." 

 A shiver ran down her spine, hard like a bolt. It made all the hairs stand up on her arms. 

 _What is a stark if I am the only one left?_ She thought gloomily. _If I am ever to be saved…she's right...well I must save myself._

Sansa lowered herself into the bath and dipped her head under the hot steamy water, holding her breath. 

_All is not lost. I am not alone. My family might be gone. But I have friends. I have Shae…and….and I have….Sandor._

 


	3. Innocence lost.

**SANDOR**

The girl had been in pieces after the wedding, broken like a fragile little bird that had fell from its nest. Sandor had been watching her, protecting her the best he could from the boy king. He knew he shouldn’t, he just couldn’t seem to stop himself. _I truly am a bloody fool_. _Gone soft by a beautiful woman, a girl_. Touching her had only made it worse, having her like that in his arms made him crave it even more. She would speak to him now unprovoked, when he had to escort her to and from court, she would even look at him full in the face. _She looks at me as though I’m a friend. I shouldn’t have bloody held her like that. I’ve forgotten my place. I’m a dog, not one of these fucking knights._  He paced up the hall, eyes fixed on the door at the end.  _She belongs to Joffery now._ He tried to hold himself back, to be mean to her whenever he could, but she didn’t look at him in fear anymore. He stopped to adjust the fingers on his gauntlets and pushed open the door to her chambers.

 “The King wants you.”

 She was stood in front of the looking glass, her maids tying up the back of her dress. Her arms were bare and he realized she was not yet fully clothed, her lily white skin was exposed, showing him cleavage he had never seen before.

 “You should knock!” The little dark haired foreign one snapped.

 “I should _knock_ your fucking teeth out, how about that?” He rasped before shutting the door and telling her to ‘hurry up’. The image of her naked skin stuck in his mind and be began to wish he had walked in just a few moments before.

 When the little bird stepped out into the hall she looked up at him with a half smile.

 “What? Don’t expect me to take your arm like one of those _sers_ ”.

 “I wasn’t.’” was all she said sweetly before they began their journey to court. 

 _Little bird doesn't know whats coming._ Sandor heard the chatter in the hall before he was sent. Joffery was being poisoned by Baelish, whispering things in his ear. He wasn't sure what yet, but he knew it wasn't anything good. As he left they were all bickering like a bunch of fucking fish wives. There were whispers as well, of the new little Queen. How she had barely been seen since the wedding. How the King already regretted marrying the daughter of a traitor. Sandor couldn't see the sense in it, she was no use to the Lannisters anymore. The game was changing, Cersei and Tywin had been plotting something, Sandor was sure of it. Though Joffery did not care to attend small council meetings often, meaning he learnt no more of it. As Sandor and the little bird crossed the courtyard he decided to warn her.

“He’s in a foul fucking mood.”

She shot him a worried look and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Oh.."

"Seen a fair few tongues and cocks cut off this morning."

She covered her mouth and looked down to her feet. "Ohh…"

They walked in silence until the reached the corridor before the great hall. She stopped and turned to him.

 “Why does his grace want to see me?”

Her eyes twinkled up at him. He forced himself to look away.

 “How should I know?”

 When he marched her through the big oak doors Sandor returned to his usual side beside the King, facing down the steps towards a worried looking Sansa, the lords and ladies of the court all circled behind. Quite a crowd had gathered. It had appeared word had gotten around fast. The fat little highborn Lords and Ladies loved to feast on gossip and spread it around like a slab of butter. 

 “My Queen, you look quite lovely today.” Joff called down at her, picking at his Iron throne.

 “Why thankyou my King.”

 He nodded.

 “I must ask you something. Something of great importance."

"Of course. What is it my King?"

"You must answer truthfully."

"Of course my King."

"Have you bled yet?” 

He smirked.

She let out a muffled gasp of horror. Plainly humiliated, while the court sniggered.

 “Well? It has been brought it to my attention that you should be with child by now.” Joff continued.

 _Baelish's doing,_ Sandor thought. _Why does he want the little bird dead? Or with child?_   It didn't make any sense. _How does that greasy little cunt gain anything from this?_

Her cheeks turned crimson with the the question asked of her.

Sandor Clegane found himself gritting his teeth together. It was something he did not want to listen to be discussed. His little bird, in his mind, was still the innocent young maiden she once was. He wasn’t sure if he could bare seeing her with child; she's only a child herself.  _And what does that make you?_  He remembered how he held her again, and how he wanted to touch her. At the royal wedding, Sandor had stayed just long enough to see the little bird be returned by the imp. He couldn't stand there and watch while that nasty little fuck put his hands all over her, while they undress and embarrass her and carry her off to her bed. He raced straight to the kitchens to fetch some wine and stayed well away from everyone. He had gotten so drunk he woke in the stables with stranger and a pile of horse shit by his head. Luckily it was Trants duty to watch over the royal bedding, and stand guard outside the door. Although he was not there, it isn't to say the thought of it didn't fill him furiously with rage. He knew it had happened. He just chose not to think of it, he did not want to, it was easier for him that way. But to see her belly grow with his child..that would surely break him. 

 Sansa nodded her head ever so slightly before returning her gaze to her feet.

 "Why?" The King snapped, sending spittle towards her.

 Baelish stepped forward again ."As we discussed. Perhaps she is not able, your grace." 

 The King leant forward, narrowing his hateful eyes. 

 “I should have known you weren’t fit to bare my children. My mother said as much."

 "She did?"

 "Oh, yes. She said she worries about our future children, whether they'll be stupid like you, but I told her not to trouble herself. But it appears my mother gave you more due than you deserve. What’s the use of a traitor wife who can’t even conceive?"

Sansa went to say something but he silenced her with a hand.

"I’ll beat a baby into you if I have to, is that what you want Sansa?”

 Tears began to well up in her eyes. _She knows what’s coming. And I’m going to have to stand here and watch._

 “I want your children more than anything your grace…it.. ”

 “Then why haven’t you? You’re a traitor just like your father, your brother, and your bitch mother. Your not fit enough to have my children.” Joff had stood up from his seat now, his hands in fists. "You’re a freak just like the rest of your pathetic family."

 “No please, your grace, that’s not true…I…I…”

"What magic have you cast so you may not conceive? It is treason! Thats what it is! Moon tea your've been drinking I bet. Who gave it to you? Tell me who is helping you! Ill slit their throats myself!!!" He was screaming now, all high pitched and red in the face. _Shut up you little cunt,_ is all Sandor could think. Joff stepped down closer to her, pointing his boney little finger in her face.

She mumbled something unrecognisable. To which he only snorted a laugh.

 “I’ve had enough of your sniveling.“

She gasped to say something.

 "SILENCE!"

 Joffery turned back and picked up his cross bow from the side of his throne, then rested it on his lap towards her head.

 “You bore me Sansa. And what good is a boring, childless wife?”

The girl spluttered, unable to speak. 

"Are you Baron? Is that it? Can you not carry a child?"

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat to speak, though Joffery hushed him with a hand. 

"My lady?" He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "It is law to answer your King."

She smoothed her skirts nervously. 

 “I…next moon I promise I’ll…I’ll give you a…” Tears were falling from her eyes.

"I grow impatient my lady." Joff loaded his arrow and shut one eye to aim it at her head. Sandors chest tightened. The Hound had a vision of ripping his sword free and throwing away the scabbard, only to slice Joffery Baratheon in flurry of guts.

Sansa fell to her knees, sobbing. "No please. No please. Don't kill me. Please!"

 “Meryn.” The boy called.

The Toad _Ser_ Meryn Trant marched over to her shaking body, kneeling on the marble floor and unsheathed his sword. _Some fucking ser you are, cutting little girls. You fucking cunt._ He gritted his teeth together, waiting for the screams of the little birds pain. He hated him. He thought about taking a bite out of his neck with his teeth and how it would feel to watch him squirm on the floor until he bled out. _Deserves a slow painful death._ Trant grabbed the little birds neck so she was forced to look at him. He couldn't just stand there and watch it. Not again. Everytime he bare witness to her being hurt it grew harder and harder to see. 

 “Leave her face, I like her pretty.” Joff called out, a smile spreading across his lips.

Trant walked behind her and hit her hard in the back with the flat of his sword and she fell flat on her front with a yelp. He winced when he heard her call out in pain. Sandor wanted to call out and stop him, he wanted nothing more than to slice through Trant and grab her before anyone else could hurt her. _That’s enough now._ Trant hit her again. _Stop, just let her bloody go,_ he willed silently in his head. He looked away, then back, then away again.

"Thats enough." He found himself mumbling.

Trant hit her once more, harder this time. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand there and let him beat her. _Fuck it._

"ENOUGH!" Sandor shouted loud and clear, his voice echoing throughout the throne room.

Trant shot him a look and raised a brow, pausing before raising his sword again. Joff only looked at him and chuckled.

"Its enough when _I_ say its enough."

 Suddenly, and not a moment too soon Cersei came roaming in with her hand maidens in tow, swishing her dress as she walked, looking like some bloody floating tapestry. The sound of the iron door opening made half the court turn to see who entered. She walked slowly through the crowd and greeted her son with a kiss on the cheek and took her seat on the dais. All attention turned to her as she flicked her golden hair over a naked shoulder.

 “What is the meaning of this my love?” She asked tilting her head with a coy little smile.

 Joffery sighed, seemingly embarrassed by his mothers appearance. 

 “The king does as he wants.” Was all he snapped before sitting back on his throne.

 “I was only curious. I could hear the screams outside the walls. What has the little wolfing done now?” 

 He sighed with irritation. “I am beating a child into Sansa. As she has yet to give me one.”

 Cersei raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the girl with something that almost looked like pity. Sandor knew that Cersei was a liar and a whore, and a selfish one at that, yet she was not as cruel as him. She was one of the few people in the seven Kingdoms that could calm the boy or sway his actions, if only slightly.

 “How long has it been little love? A moons turn or more?”

 Sansa nodded feebly as she returned to her knees, blood seeping through the bodice of her dress.

“Just…one, moons turn.”

 “It took me five moons turns to conceive yourself after my wedding night your grace, perhaps she is still yet to do so, give it a little time.”

 Joff lowered his cross bow and turned as if to speak, his cheeks burning red.

 “You will have to try again my sweet, every night I should say. I’m sure that it wont be a problem.” Cersei smiled as the rest of the court laughed under their breaths.

The boy flared his nostrils in anger and let out a sigh pointing his cross bow back at the girl. He considered for a moment and leant back on his throne before smirking and lowering it once more.

 “You have one more moons turn Sansa. Or I’ll have this marriage annulled and I’ll find myself a more suitable, and _willing_ wife. Your lucky my mother cares for you.”

 “I have said no such thing.” Cersei announced, getting to her feet. "The importance of a little prince or princess deems quite important is all."

 That made Joffery smile.

 “Thankyou your grace, my…my king. I will, I swear it…” She smoothed her skirts as a hand maiden came to aid her and Joff waved his hand for her to leave. She could barely stand the poor little bird, limping and shivering with fear.

 “Oh, and Sansa.” He called after her.

 “If you don't...I’ll put your pretty head up there on a spike, along side the rest of your family.” His lips curved into an even crueller smile.

 

**SANSA**

Sansa sat in the gardens for the best part of the morning doing her needlework, trying to forget about the previous day at court. The warm breeze and the gentle sound of the leaves swaying in the trees had calmed her somewhat. Beside her sat Lady Tanda and her daughter, chatting aimlessly about gossip and meaningless drabble. Though Sansa didn’t mind, it gave her the chance to take her mind off the ever-growing worry she carried. Lady Tanda smiled at her sweetly; showing her sympathy whenever she could, but Sansa knew the only way she would remain with her head on her shoulders was by having Jofferys child. _There must be another way._ She kept saying to herself, though she knew there was no use. _I’ll have to share his bed again._ She shuddered at the thought.

Not much had changed since her wedding day, though she had not really expected it to in truth. She attended court whenever she was bid, walked the gardens as she always had and visited the godswood whenever she could. Joffery would ask her to sup with him most nights, though they spent many of them in silence. He would say things to try and sway her, to get her to say something wrong but Sansa never broke. _If I have come this far I can survive anything._ She told herself. With the title of ‘Queen’ she felt empowered, even if it didn’t change her life much. Though she had ordered three beautiful new dresses to be sown for her from the seamstress, as it only seemed fitting that a Queen should look the part. Cersei even supped with her, young Tommen and Joffery some nights, though they had been awkward and intimidating. She had asked to visit the city, to see something other than the red stone walls, though Joffery had refused. The King would not let her attend small council meetings nor visits to his chambers. _I’m still a prisoner_ , she realised. _Now more than ever._

 When the sun reached its highest point Sansa decided to retire to her chambers for a short nap. She had been so tired of late and found it troublesome to sleep at night. She often dreamt of mother and Robb, wondering how they died, if they were in pain. She muttered her leave as Lady Tander and her daughter got up to curtsey her off, and her handmaidens came following without a word. They seemed to follow her now like shadows and it was growing bothersome. She walked up past one of the balcony’s that overlooked the Blackwater bay, where she stopped for a moment to gaze. The water was rippling and shining, like liquid diamonds waving over sapphire, truly beautiful. As she watched she realised there were still rotting pieces of boat jutting up into the air from the battle, tainting the otherwise picturesque view. She turned to realise all her hand maidens were stood watching her, wondering why she had stopped.

“Leave me be.” She said them, and they turned in a swirl of multi-coloured silk.

Shae moved slower than the rest, and rolled her eyes.

Sansa perched herself on the balcony for a moment and let her mind wander off again, yet she spotted something to the side of her that caught her attention.

 Sandor Clegane was roaming the halls, near the entrance to her chambers. _He’s always so close._ She thought to herself as she caught his eye.

 “Your grace.” He rasped, awkwardly and almost sarcastically. Sansa didn’t think he had grown used to having to call her ‘Queen’ just yet.

 “The King wants you to sup with him tonight.”

 She nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”

 He lingered for a moment before turning to walk away.

 “Lord erm..Clegane?” She called out after him, not quite sure what she wanted to say.

 He turned raising the eyebrow on the unburnt side of his face. It seemed to Sansa that she had forgotten how to speak for a moment, or even why she had called him back. Instead she just studied his face, the red raw twists of flesh that entwined within one another on the left side, then the strong jawline and black stubble of the right. 

 “Out with it then? Or did you just want to have a good look at this?” He rubbed his face with his large gauntleted hand.

 “Do you think he expects me to stay? In his chambers I mean…” Sansa didn’t know why she had said that, though she supposed it was because she knew that’s what it meant. The thought of sleeping beside him again made her cringe.

 “What sort of fucking question is that?” He barked, turning to walk away.

 “You heard him, he’s going to kill me if I don’t give him a child.” Her lips began to tremble, she realised she had been holding it in all morning and the tears began to well up.

 “Then give him what he wants.”

 “But how?”

 “You truly are a stupid girl. Didn’t your mother tell you how little princes and princesses are made?”

 “Yes. I’m not stupid…I know _how._ I just…well we don’t share a bed. He has only ever… _once_.”

 “I don’t want to know about how many times you’ve opened your legs for the King."

"But…"

"Leave your bloody problems at someone else’s door.”

Sandor Cleganes mouth twitched.

Her wedding night had been a blur, something she tried to push out of her memory. Though the bedding seemed to haunt her, especially at night when she was alone. She can remember everybody carrying her, everyone tearing at her clothes, ripping them off piece by piece, laughing and jeering. Her eyes were stinging from all she had cried that day but it seemed there were no tears left to cry. The crowd dropped them both, in Joffery's chambers onto the silk four poster bed, half undressed. She can remember Lord Tywins face, and Cersei's.. the others were a blur. _Where is The Hound?_ She can remember thinking. _He is always here. Why isn't he here. Why isn't he here to protect me?_ Joffery was laughing and shouting, though she cannot remember what. Then they all left, and the door was shut behind them. It was silent. She was so scared.

He jumped on top of her and grabbed her face, squeezing her lips together as his hissed "Your mine to do with what I please Sansa. Don't you ever forget that." She tried to look away but he wouldn't let her, his eyes were wide and crazed. _I can still get away_ she thought hopelessly. Trying to squirm out of his grasp. _Its no good._  He began to laugh at her. "You will look at me. You will always obey me. Are you listening?!" Then he slapped her, hard and fast so it stung her cheek. "Are you listening? Answer your King." She nodded. His breath reeked of wine. He kissed her but his lips were thin and smooth, awkward and fast. He began to kiss her neck then he bit her so hard she thought it may have drawn blood. Sansa closed her eyes tightly shut. _Its my duty._ she repeated over and over in her mind. _Its my duty. I must._  He fumbled around with her skirts until he ripped them clean off. She tried to cover herself but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her down beneath him. She cried the whole way through, though Joffery only seemed to like it more. She tried to close her eyes and wished that it would all be over soon. Yet it seemed to last an age and whenever she closed her eyes she saw his rotting face.

It wasn’t at all how Sansa imagined it would be, her mother once told her that it should feel good, though all she felt was searing pain.  _It must be different if you are in love_ , she told herself. S _urely it cannot be that awful. Its written in songs. Loosing your maiden head is supposed to beautiful._  Though her wedding night was anything but that. Joffery choked and slapped her, till she was blue in the face. She was sure she was going to faint. The things he whispered in her ear she knew would never leave her. He'd snarl at her and laugh, when she pleaded him to stop. He pulled her bottom half up and forced her to watch as he had he way with her, sniggering. Then finally when he was done, he got dressed and left, without a word. Leaving her there alone, scared, in pain and shaking.

Joffery had commanded that she was to sleep in her old chambers after that, and he had scarcely seen her since. She wondered if she had done something wrong, no one had told her what exactly she was to do. _Maybe I done something wrong? Maybe thats what angered him?_. Though Shae and her ladies took good care of her after, and assured her that it was not her doing. "Thats just how it is" One of her maids said. "A noble boy from the castle I grew up in done it to me all the time. Couldn't say or do anything about it. So that was that." Sansa's face and neck were bruised slightly so she kept herself hidden for a week while she recovered. It had only been a few days since she had dared step out of her chambers. The pretence had been so strong, she even managed to convince herself all was well. Then the memory of her wedding night was too much for her, and she suddenly felt dizzy.

"Im scared. I don't know what to do."

 He turned to leave and the words just seemed to burst out of her mouth.

 “But…Sandor…he’s going to kill me.” She cringed as she said his name, she hadn’t meant to, it was far too familiar, yet she couldn’t very well call him _Ser_ , or Lord or even The Hound. It didn’t seem right.

 “Not my fucking problem if he does.”

  He seemed surprised by the sound of his own name. His eyes were smouldering under a careful stone expression.

 "But you helped me. All those times. The other day, you lied for me!"

 "I did no such fucking thing"

 "The name day, it was a lie. And you know it!"

 The Hound leaned forward and brought his ruined face close to hers. His voice low.

 "Then shouldn't you be thanking me little bird, sewing me a fucking handkerchief or whatever it is stupid little girls do?"

 Her stomach lurched, and she felt the tears that she so often cried begin to well up in her eyes all over again.

 The Hound let out a grunt.

 _Does he truly not care if I live or die? I thought he cared for me._ She swallowed her tears in tightly. _He's The Hound,_ she told herself _, he doesn't care for anyone._ Sandor Clegane smirked down at her. _But he held me, protected me, he kissed me._ The memory of him coming to her room flashed before her very eyes, she saw him on top of her again, his dagger poised to her throat, with the green swirling darkness swarming in the sky. He had asked her to leave with him; he said that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, that he would keep her safe. Sansa was so scared she had refused, though she had begged him to stay there in Kings Landing. She couldn’t have said why, though maybe it was because he made her feel safe.Because she felt something for him. _I should have left with him, I never would have had to marry Joffery._

"I should have gone with you."

"Little bird, be quiet." His voice was quick and harsh.

She could barely hear him say the words, her mind was running around in circles. She was back at the night of the Battle of Blackwater. The Hound never said he would stay though, he never even replied, she just remembered how his lips pressed against her own, so hard she could feel all the tiny little ridges of scars and stubble. Her heart was pounding against her rib cage, so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. For a moment she was frozen, until she felt herself kiss him back, at first only gently. _This isn’t so bad_ , she can remember thinking, the panic in her belly dulling a little. He wasn’t hurting her, or moving harshly, but quite softly. She could _feel_ him smiling. _He isn’t going to hurt me._ She closed her eyes, letting his mouth move against hers, before he called out ‘Little bird’ once more and left her alone in her bed, staring out into the darkness.

Sansa had assumed that he had left right then and there, in the dead of night, and that she would never have seen him again. Yet at court the very next day there he stood, gleaming in his armour, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. That night had seemed like a lifetime ago now, and the thought of it let off all of the tiny butterflies in her belly all over again. Sometimes she almost thought she might have dreamt it, that it was all imagined, all in her head. But the torn white clock that she had locked away in her cedar chest under her summer silks, confirmed the memory was to be a very real one. _He kissed me, he does care for me, he must._ Sansa suddenly realised how often she must have thought about him, and how often she had been left confused. But then she felt angry. Angry he was not there for her on her wedding night, he wasn't there to protect her then, when she needed him most.

 Sandor stared at her for a long moment. His eyes looked like the sky on a stormy day. He frowned, turned on his heel and marched, leaving her stood behind, tears rolling down her cheeks. _He is right; I am a stupid girl. I thought he cared for me, but he doesn’t even care if I live or die. He’s just a horrible, cruel dog. He’s just another one of Jofferys pets._  The anger hit her just as soon as the tears did, and she couldn’t help but step forward and let out a cry…

"Why didn't you stop him. On my wedding night? Why didn't you save me?" 

 The Hound stopped in his tracks and Sansa almost covered her mouth with her hands.  _If someone heard, if anyone heard them…_

 _"_ Shut your mouth girl. You want to get us both killed?" 

His voice was deep and firm, though hushed. He stood still, facing the other way.

"But…"

"You are not mine to save." He rasped, glancing over his shoulder. "You belong to the _King_. Why should I give a damn what he does with you."

 Her lips were trembling.

“If you don’t care…then why did you stay? Why didn’t you leave Kings Landing that night…when you came to my chambers?”

She had asked that very question to herself at night a thousand times. _Why did he stay? He left me with a kiss and a bloody cloak, and never breathed another word of it to me again._

 “Shut up your chirp-” He growled glancing back, his piercing grey eyes wide and shining.

 “Why?!” She cried out again.

He stood in silence for a long moment, before turning around to face her properly. His tense shoulders dropped as he did, and the corner of his ruined mouth twitched with it.

“Because you asked me _not_ to, little bird.”

Before Sansa could answer he was storming off down the hall, his golden armour shimmering in the afternoon sun. _I haven't imagined it all. He does care._ She realised _._ Dabbing the tears from the corner of her eyes. _And I think I care for him too._ Her heart fluttered in her chest as if to confirm it.


	4. Blood & wine.

**Sansa**

_He is even more handsome than I remembered._ Sansa thought to herself, looking down on the knights from the balcony. Ser Loras Tyrell stood proudly with one hand on his hip, as his squire put on his gleaming silver armour, the jewels on it sparkling in the midday sun. He was chattering away to his squire, a short boy with a mop of curly brown hair. Sansa had heard that she was to marry Ser Loras if it weren’t for Jofferys betrothal, the thought had made her sad. _I could have been the lady of Highgarden, I’ve always wanted to see it there. To float down the pleasure barges and visit the beautiful gardens, and he’s so handsome. A proper knight._ She had heard that he was a fierce warrior, the pride of the Tyrell family itself. _It could have been my happily ever after._ She sighed and returned her gaze to her _King,_ who was sneering comments about how fat one of his cousins had become.

Joffery had arranged a small tourney within the castle, to celebrate the naming of Ser Loras to one of his Kings guard. All of the court was present, a sea of multi coloured silks and feathers sat upon tiered chairs of stone and timber. The arrangement reflected the rigidly stratified nature of the court, with Joffery and herself at the top, the cooks and servants at the very bottom. As she let her eyes move over the crowd below, she caught sight of Mace Tyrell, a large fleshy man father to Ser Loras. Tywin had arranged the joining of his house to the Lannisters, after Sansa's own wedding. Within the month Margery Tyrell was to travel to the capital to be betrothed to Prince Tommen, though it was said she was several years older than the boy. As part of their agreement, Ser Loras was to join the Kingsguard, and Lady Tander even heard rumours of Ser Willas marrying Cersei Lannister, though Sansa thought it absurd. _I hope Lady Margery is as warm hearted as Tommen. I would very much like a friend at court. A sister._

Sansa returned her eyes to the melee below. Behind Ser Loras Tyrell stood Sandor Clegane fiddling with his own dull grey armour, trying to unbuckle the straps with his large calloused hands. As she watched him struggle it dawned on her that The Hound did not have a squire, not at least one she knew of. She couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to be, knowing how short his temper is. _He isn't truly a knight,_ she remembered, _he can't have a squire._ The two men looked as different from one another, say as well a dog from a rose. _Even the reddest roses have thorns_ , Sansa thought, eyes flittering between the two men. Ser Loras looked up towards her and her King, and gave a low bow.  _And dogs will die for you, but never lie to you_. She found herself staring The Hound. It was a rare sight to see Sandor Clegane without his armor, and Sansa had never before noticed his body as she did at that moment. He still looked as much a warrior as he did with it all on, though he was wearing a brown leather jerkin and linen shirt underneath. His big broad shoulders and strong muscular arms clung to the fabric as he moved, pulling it tight around them as they flexed. He stood a good two feet taller than any other man, apart from his brother The Mountain of course. Sansa tried to avert her eyes, no lady should stare so vulgly at a man, but the jerkin he wore was open slightly at the top. It showed a little tuft of the black hair that grew on his chest and her mind began to wonder. _He fascinates me_. Sansa thought tilting her head. _I wonder how far that hair goes down…I bet the rest of him isn’t nearly so bad as his face.._. She sat up straight, squeezed shut her eyes and silently scolded herself. 

To start the tourney Ser Osmund Kettleblack and Ser Balon Swann were to fight with shield and mace. Lord Tywin Lannister commenced the proceeding, followed by the new Septon calling over his blessings to the Knights in the name of the Seven. 

“Hurry up, I haven’t got all day!” Joffery shouted down at them with a look of disgust. His eyes flittered over Sansa, leaving her conscious and awkward. _I hate it when he looks at me like that._ It was the same look he gave her sometimes when she supped with him, or when she wore the low cut dress he had made for her. 

The Kings eyes returned to the tourney, as did Sansa’s. It reminded her of her Fathers tourney, and how excited she was to see the jousting and knights in their shining armor. It felt like so long ago now, a distant memory she had almost forgotten. She wished her father was sat next to her as he had, and Arya. She often wondered what had become of her, if she would ever see her again. _I do hope she is safe somewhere_. As much as the two sisters bickered, she loved her all the same. She remembered Arya didn't want to go to the tourney, she would rather play in the dirt with sticks. Sansa had been trilled, she could barely sit still in her seat. She remembered Sandor Clegane saving Ser Loras' life, how he defended him against The Mountain, who had turned crazed _._ _He cut off his own horse’s head._ The blood had made her feel faint. The Mountain terrified Sansa, there was no hidden kindness in his eyes, not like his brother. Sansa thought back to the story The Hound had told her, of how he got his terrible scars. _How can a brother do something so horrible to his own?_ In Winterfell Sansa often fought with her sister, she even said she hated her, though the worst she ever done was put dung in her bedding. 

Ser Balon shattered Ser Osmunds shield, his sigil of a black kettle on red roses flew off into a thousand pieces. The Lords and Ladies in the gallery were engrossed in the melee, as were the men on the ground. Sansa looked over the faces before her, and noticed some new ones that must have stayed in the castle since her wedding. She recognized Lord Mathis Rowan, the golden tree of his house spread across his velvet doublet. Lady Oakheart, a tiny delicate woman with eyes of watery grey, who looked most uncomfortable watching the clashes of steel. Yet Sansa found her eyes flicker over to The Hound once more, who was now in his full armor. Her eyes seemed drawn to him as a moth is to a flame. Ser Balon was announced the winner, who pulled off his helm and bowed graciously to the cheering crowd. Ser Osmund kicked his splintered shield and threw down his sword, swearing profusely. 

“Well fought, well fought!” Joffery cheered taking a large gulp from his wine cup. Without warning, he turned to her. 

"Did you like that, my Queen?"

"It was well fought, your Grace." She said nodding in agreement. _As she always did._

"I said it was well fought." He spat, scowling at her. "I asked if you liked it."

"I did, your Grace."

"What did you like about it?"

She scrambled her mind for a safe answer, running out of time she was quickly saved by the next duel.

“Sandor of house Clegane, to match Ser Boros Blount.” Someone called, hanging up the two sigils of their houses. _Three dogs on a yellow field, for those that died in the autumn grass._ For Ser Boros, a red stripe between to porcupines on green. Though Sansa could not recall why that was his sigil. 

“I wager 100 gold dragons on my dog.” Joffery called out to the crowd, though no one matched for a long while. Sansa could feel the tenseness of the guests, praying that someone had to wager with him, or she would feel the brunt of his anger to be sure. He liked to take his displeasure out on her, no matter what she tried to do to deter it. 

Petyr Baelish suddenly stood in his navy blue embroidered tabard, the mocking bird of his house clasped to his neck. _Thank the Gods._ Now that the War of the Five Kings was as good as over, Sansa had heard it said that Petyr Baelish was to become Lord of the Vale, marrying her Aunt. _I wonder what Aunt Lysa is like, if she looks like my mother?_  Sansa never had the pleasure of meeting her, and supposed she never would. She heard whispers in the court that Petyr had loved her Lady mother once, though Catelyn never told her of it.

“Done, your grace. What is a tourney without a little gamble?” Lord Petyr said smiling.

“Very well.” Joffery waved his hand. “Rip off his head, Hound!” 

Sandor Clegane looked up at him though didn’t reply, just swung his sword arm around to loosen his shoulder. Sansa felt her tummy knot and her heart begin to beat a little faster. She suddenly found herself anxious, and hoping that he wouldn’t get hurt. As Ser Boros slammed down his helm Sansa thought she saw his face with a flash of horror. He raised his shield edged forward, taking small uncertain strides. The Hound drew his enormous great sword from his back, a sword twice the size of Ser Boros’s. _That’s not fair._ Sansa thought, _he’s already twice the size of him._ His snarling dogs head helm made him for quite a terrifying sight.The first blow was met steel to steel, though Ser Boros was taken a back. Sandor crashed down his sword hard and fast again and again, taking great chunks of wood from Ser Boros’s shield. The pair circled each other making clinks as their steel kissed. Sandor swung faster than the knight and sliced his leg with the tip of his sword, just below the chain mail, a line of blood seeped through his surcoat and down onto his calf. Within moments the Hound had smashed the shield straight out of his hand. Ser Boros staggered back as he was kicked down onto the floor, the Hound towering over him. The crowd began to stand and cheer, shouting at him to finish the job. 

“I yield!” Ser Boros shouted as the tip of Sandors sword met his neck. “I yield, I yield!” Sandor turned up towards the dais where Sansa was sat and for a moment she thought he looked right at her. Yet she soon realised he was looking for Joffery’s approval and her heart seemed to drop right down into her tummy. Joffery nodded as if to accept before taking another gulp of wine. 

“Well done dog. I’ll see it you get a comely bitch with nice teats to reward you!”

The crowd roared with laughter as did Joffery, Sandor looked around uneasy and sheathed his sword. Sansa felt herself feeling giddy as she watched The Hound move around below, though perhaps it was from the wine. _He's so strong._

After a long day of clapping, complementing various Lords and Ladies and taking small constant sips of wine Sansa found herself drunk and dizzy. The sun was setting in a sky of pink and purple and at last the tourney was over. _I’m ever so tired,_ she realised _. I shouldn’t have drunk so much wine._ She disliked the taste of the Dornish wine they had served, though Joffery had commanded she kept taking sips. _He’s started to drink near as much as his father did._ Sansa remembered King Roberts red cheeks and fat belly, yet she couldn’t imagine them on Joffery. _He would make a terrible drunk, worse than his father_ , she reflected. When they left the tourney King Joffery had been so drunk that he almost tripped and tumbled down the chairs. _If only he had, and had broken his neck._ When they reached the castle he took her arm and asked her to join him in his chambers. The question caught her by surprise and she almost refused. _I could say I feel ill, or I have my moons blood._ Then she remembered that it would mean loosing her head.

“It would be my pleasure, my King.” _It’s my duty._ She told herself as she entered his grand chambers. _And the only way I’m to stay alive._

They sat on the royal balcony overlooking the bay as they were served a selection of fruits and pastries, followed by a sweet pink coloured wine. _I much prefer the taste of this one_ , she thought, taking a sip. The view from his balcony was quite breathtaking, you could near see the whole of the Blackwater bay. Vine leaves crawled up over their heads, sheltering them from the remainder of the setting orange sun.

As she carelessly watched the horizon, Sansa spilt a splash of the wine onto her new lilac dress. All down the lace that trailed down her chest to her lap.She blushed and tried to discreetly brush it off with the back of her hand, though it made no use. _I hope he does not notice._  It would be enough for a beating, she knew. Yet Joffery spoke little to Sansa, but mostly to Ser Balon Swann who stood as a statue, near the great oak door to his room. The more drunk he became, the more it seemed that he liked the sound of his own voice and Sansa soon found herself drifting off thinking about her family. She wandered where Arya would have gone if she had indeed escaped, _she always loved Jon, perhaps she is with him at the wall._ It seemed doubtful but she told herself it could be true. _S_ uddenly she realised she had not heard a word Joffery had said.

"Well?" He questioned her, prodding at his plate. "Tytos, after my great grandfather. Or mayhaps Joffery, the second."

Sansa was confused, _what had he meant?_ "I'm sorry my King, I did not hear you." 

"Are you deaf as well as stupid. My sons name."

 _'My', doesn't he mean ours?_ Sansa had always wanted to name her child after her father, she didn't think she could ever call him Joffery. _What if he is to be like his father? Two Jofferys._ She shuddered at the thought. But Sansa had always wanted a girl, so she could teach her to sing and dance and sew. She hoped she would have red hair like her own, that she could braid like her mother used to in Winterfell. Shae had taught her how to braid the crown of the head, like was the fashion in the capital, she could practice on her. Yet Sansa was only now approaching her sixteenth name day, and the thought of having her own child made her tummy knot. She had looked after Bran and Rickon when they were still young, but Sansa was worried she wouldn't know the first thing to do with a baby.

 _Could I ever love him? Or her? Knowing they had come from his seed?_ She wasn't sure that she could.

"What if it is to be a girl your grace?" She asked, covering her wine stain with her hand.

Joffery sneered at the suggestion.

"What use is a girl?"

Sansa found herself wondering what she would like to call her daughter if she were to ever have one.  _'Lily'_ she thought, _after my favourite flower.Thats a beautiful name._   _Or Jonquil, after the maiden in the song. Mayhaps she might find her true love as I never will._ Sansa found herself hoping that she would never have to marry her daughter to someone like Joffery, or ship her off to Dorne as Cersei had.

Sansa looked up at Joffery over her goblet to be met by those terrible green eyes and a smirk. He nibbled on a piece of cheese from his ornately carved dagger, waving it around as if to threaten her. Their suppers often consisted of this. Pointless chatter, leering eyes and vile remarks about her family and home.

"Now that the war is almost won and all of your traitor family are dead, Winterfell is mine by right. I'm going to start by burning down anything that remains of that pile of rubble you called a castle."

 _He's trying to hurt me._ She realised. _Courtesy is a ladies armour_ , her Septa always told her.

"As is your right, my King. The walls of Winterfell are nothing compared to the beauty of the Red Keep."

Joffery's smirk dropped and suddenly he pushed away his plate and dismissed the servants and Ser Balon from the balcony. Her stomach lurched. He stumbled over to grab a jug of wine laid on a beautifully carved oak table just inside the door of his chambers. He ushered her to follow him but she felt so clumsy she almost tripped over the hem of her skirts.  _His room is twice the size of mine, and much more beautiful._ If one kind word could be said of King Joffery it was his lavish taste for beauty and luxury. He poured himself a cup, but not one for her, she noted, and sat down on the bed. The posts were golden lions reaching up towards the ceiling, draped over with red velvet and gold brocade. Plumped up cushions in shades of yellow and red covered most of it, with candles lit all around. It looked beautiful but the size of the bed made Joffery look tiny, as if he were being swallowed by satin and velvet.  _  
_

“Come Sansa. Sit.” He tapped on the bed beside him and pouted his wormy lips.

 _He’s looking at me that way again._ Sansa looked at him wondering how she could have ever found him handsome. As she moved over towards him her head swam and she stumbled up the steps. The floor was so polished and slippery. 

She done as she was bid. The velvet seemed to reach up and hug her.

"Your very beautiful Sansa. You know that? Stupid, but beautiful. Can't have it all I suppose." He sniggered.

"Thankyou, my King."

She lowered her eyes. She knew what was coming.

“Come here and take off your clothes.” He reached out to touch her, yet Sansa flinched.

"No." She found herself saying _._ She didn't want to, not again.

He ran his fingers through his hair and put down his cup.

"What did you just say?" His nostrils flared as he said it.

Her throat suddenly became tight and dry, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Nothing, I'm sorry." She choked out, trying to look as though she hadn't meant it. _I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms._ She told herself, _I must do my duty._

"Mother says I'm still to put a son in you. That is if you aren't baron." He snorted.

Quickly, he moved towards her. Joffery wrapped one hand tightly around her throat while the other ran up her arm and gently tickled her neck, yet his expression was dark and anything but gentle. "Your going to like it this time." He whispered."Aren't you Sansa?" She nodded though she knew she wouldn't.

Closing her eyes she found herself thinking of Sandor Clegane, wandering if he had ever tickled a woman's neck so softly. Somehow the thought excited her and she let out a quiet sigh. Joffery seemed to enjoy the noise and grabbed her skin hard, pulling her close. Yet when she opened her eyes the sudden closeness made her tense up, recoiling from his touch.

"I want you on your knees."

She done as he commanded, careful not to fall. She looked up at him with a stare made of stone.

The King slapped her hard across the face, with the back of his hand. It stung her cheek fiercely, his ring had cut her skin.

She looked at his hands, so small and soft, not the hands she wanted to touch her at all. His nails dug into her skin and hurt her. He pulled her up again by her hair. _Just let him do it and get it over with. I'll pretend to like it. Im good at pretending_.The King paused and scowled, he began to pull at her dress. Then leaned close as if to kiss her, so she shut her eyes tight and held her breath. _Just get it over with._  She thought. But his lips never found hers, and she blinked them open again. He looked as pale as snow, his eyes blood shot and weary.

“Are you well my King?” She asked, eyes wide.

"I'm...I'm fine." He pulled her up again by the throat and swallowed. Then pushed her hard onto her back and into the silks, swaying as he did. For a second she thought he might faint.

“My King?” She asked again, only to be answered by a wave of a hand and a spluttering cough. He leaned away and was sick all down the side of the bed, showering it across the marble floor. Sansa found it hard not to retch herself, the smell was over powering. It smelt of wine and cheese and garlic, and the liquid puddled far out across the floor. She wrinkled up her nose as he turned back to face her, spit dribbling out of his mouth. He choked and coughed, his face red from both anger and embarrassment. 

“GET OUT!” He screamed, spraying spittle in her face. "GET OUT!"

 _Thank the gods._ She prayed, running out of the room without a second thought, her head spinning, clutching at her ripped bodice. _There are Gods after all._

 

**Sandor**

 

The Hound walked into the dimly lit bathhouse in the bottom of the Red Keep, his eyes heavy from the wine. Though he was permitted to use the lavish ones that they kept for the  _Sers_ , he preferred to use the one for the servants and guards.  _At least no one here will bloody talk to me._  He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Looking around the foggy room, an old man sat asleep in the tub furthest away and another in the one Sandor normally uses.  _I better get some bloody peace here._  He was sick of Jofferys constant arguing with his newly appointed grandfather, Tywin the hand. Although it did mean Tyrion was no longer, much to Sandors delight.  _Maybe Tywin can teach Joff some bloody life lessons._  The Hound kicked off his boots and made his way over to the tub, eyeing the skinny man that was sat in his place.

 

“Move.” He said, his voice as harsh as steel on stone.

The man leant back and rested his elbows on the edge, stretching out his legs in front of him, revealing a tiny pink cock.

“Do you know what? I don’t think I will. There’s plenty of room in here and I like this spot just fine. There is another one over there if you don’t want to share.” His voice was nasally and high pitched like a boy going through puberty, yet he looked a man grown.

“You’re a talker.” He rasped.

The man turned to glance up at Sandors face with a self-satisfied smile, though it soon turned into a look of complete horror.

“I said fucking  _move_.” He rasped again.

The rat faced man considered for a moment before getting up to leave without a word.  _They’re all afraid of me, bunch of gnats._  The tubs were built for 6 or 7, in the traditional style of the Free Cities, though Sandor never shared. He waited for him to leave before pulling of his sword belt and breeches and emerged himself to his chin in the steaming water. As he let his tired muscles soak he allowed himself to shut his eyes. In an instant he saw her face again, those big blue eyes staring back at him.

His mind keep going back to something he had heard shared in lowered voices earlier that day, he could not understand it. Sandor had walked past the bottom of the steps that lead up to the rookery, on his way to escort the boy. It was Cersei, he knew and Maester Pycelle. Their tone made him slow his pace.

_'A bigger dose could have other complications, your grace. She may never be able to bare a child.'_

_'Good, A few less enemies for my grandchildren.'_

They were slipping the little bird moon tea. He knew they were plotting something. They were _always_ plotting something.  _They don't want her with child._ Now the war of five kings was as good as over, he supposed she no longer held any use. _They want her fucking dead._ The realisation hit him hard. How could he protect her from that? He had strong arms and good steel. He could cut a man in half, but playing cruel little games like the ones Cersei and Tywin played, no, he could not protect her from that.

He threw water over his face.

There was another conversation that had played on his mind for days. He didn’t mean to say what he had, though when she mentioned sharing a bed with the little prick it made his blood boil and he couldn’t hold his tongue. Of course he cares if she lives or dies, the girl had been the one thing he had been thinking of since the first day they met in Winterfell. He remembered back to the first time he spoke to her, walking with her direwolf as they made camp for the night.  _Lady_ , he remembered she called it.  _Ha, only the little bird would call a beast like a direwolf, a lady_. He smiled. Then he remembered the way she looked at him, how scared she seemed to be.  _How scared she was of this face._  He splashed up water over his head again to shake the thought.

He hoped that she had understood that he hadn’t meant what he had said. That he does care for her in truth,  _I care more than any other fucker here at least._  He never thought she would ever speak a word of the night off the battle of Blackwater; he thought he must have scared her out of her wits. Yet when she asked him why he had stayed, the look in her eyes told a different story.  _She’s so bloody naïve and innocent._  At first he told himself he needed to be harsh with the girl, which led him to say the things he had.  _She needs to learn that she cant trust anyone in this place, not Cersei, not Baelish, not even me. If she gets too close, I’ll only hurt her._ In truth Sandor Clegane wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her in his arms as he had before.  _She’ll thank me one day, for all the hateful things I do. She has to learn, this world is not some bloody song._  

He splashed the hot water over his arms and rubbed his aching neck. The scar on his shoulder seemed to be healing nicely.  _Another one to add to the pile._  His arms were smattered with scars, some still red raw, some silvery and old, some burns from when he was younger. Whenever he looked at himself now, he felt nothing but anger and hate. Yet years ago when he was still a squire he used to look at himself alone in his room and cry, although no one has ever known it.

As the heat of the water surrounded him, the steam in the room got humid and Sandors eyes grew heavy once more. He closed them and stretched his aching body, kneading the muscles in his sword arm. He had pulled something when fighting in the tourney. He stretched it and made a fist over and over again. Sandor put his head back, taking a deep relieving breath. He imagined that the little bird was right there in the tub with him, washing herself, smiling shyly at him. He pictured her emerging from the water, naked as her name day,  _looking like some bloody mermaid._  He looked around again to make sue he was alone.

He wondered what her breasts were like, what they would  _feel_  like. Soon his cock was throbbing, so hard he had to take it in his hand. He wanted to know what she would  _sound_  like, what little moans might come from her mouth if he were to ever fuck her. _I will never fuck her, she's the Queen. Your a dog._ He envisioned the tuft of auburn hair between her legs and the pink little folds that lie there. He wanted to know what they would  _taste_  like. How it would feel to run his tongue over the tiny mound of flesh and make her legs quiver. He wanted to slide his fingers deep inside her, to make her arch her back and moan his name. To feel the wetness of her. He rubbed his cock up and down below the warmth of the water. Imagining his hand were her pink little lips wrapping around him, her mouth sucking on his hard throbbing cock. He was so close to cumming he ached with want. He knew it was wrong to think of her but he wanted her so fucking badly. He imagined her bouncing up down on him, her legs pressed either side. Sweat and steam dripping down her naked body. Soon he found his release, and instantly he flooded with guilt. 

Suddenly he heard steps and jeering voices from outside the bath house. In a daze he got up quickly, pulling on his rough spin breeches to cover the massive erection he still had and turned to face away. The cloth stuck to his still damp body. He shrugged on his tunic and grabbed his sword belt hoping to make a quick exit before the men entered the room. 

"Well if it isn't the Hound." A voice shouted, followed by barks and woofs from the other drunken guards behind him.

Sandor ignored them and continued to get dressed, pushing his long hair out of his face. 

"The fuck you bunch of _cunts_ want." Was all he said clasping his sword belt back onto his hip. 

"Your a cheery one aren't you?" The voice said again. Sandor recognised it as one of the former sell sword guards that liked to think he had was the next _Ser_ to be knighted to the Kingsguard. _Pompous prick. Wont be so smug without that babbling tongue inside your mouth._ Sandor suddenly found himself wishing he had his dagger so he could remove it himself. _My great sword is too big, i'll have to split open his skull._   _I'll let he blood run out into the baths and drown him in it._ The tone in Sandors voice made the other men pipe down, yet the unnamed guard must have felt bold with his belly full of wine.

"Isn't it your duty on the halls tonight Clegane? You gave Ser Boros a nasty gash on his leg in the tourney, he's in no fit state to walk." He called out to him, over a clash of clinking armour dropping to the floor.

Sandor found his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to slice the man in half. _Can't get any fucking peace anywhere._ He hadn't killed a man in a good few days and he felt the itch inside him want to see a mans blood on his sword.The tourney had only made it worse _,_ cutting a man but not killing him _._ It made him want it more _. I could imagine it was Joffery and cut off his cock._ He thought, licking his teeth.He turned to face the men all unchanging by the pillars. He was faced with ten of them or more and he let out a small grunt. _More than I fancy killing on an empty stomach._  

"Aye." Is all he said, walking out towards the kitchens. _See the girls making you soft._ He punched a sconce clean off the wall as he walked the steps back up to the keep. His blood was still up from anger, but most of all from the image of the little birds body washing naked in the bath. 


	5. whispers In The Darkness.

**Sandor**

 

Later that night Sandor patrolled the halls of Maegor's Holdfast, enjoying the silence. The hour was late, all the lords and ladies tucked up in their feather beds, just how Sandor liked it. He enjoyed the night shifts, yet tonight he was restless. After the tourney he had hoped he might visit Chattayas whorehouse and drink some of the gold dragons he had won. _Need to take my mind off that bloody girl._ But with Ser Boros injured it was his duty to take over the watch. He slowly paced the halls thinking whether he should go to the kitchens again before he lapped the halls of the hold one last time. He supposed he should go up to Joffs chambers soon and let Balon go back to the white tower, whilst Sandor stood guard for the rest of the night.

As he reached the top of those steep steps that never seemed to bloody end, he cracked his fingers in his guantlets. Some of the sconces had flickered out, leaving half the hall in darkness. _Have to get one of those scrawny kitchen wenches to light these again._  As he continued down the hall he thought he heard a noise ahead, though he couldn’t see a thing. Suddenly there was a shadow of a figure coming towards him, tiny patters of footsteps growing louder and louder. _Down the stairs from the Royal apartments._ For a moment he thought he was about to catch a whore slipping from the imps room or a hand maiden off to steal wine from the kitchen. But when he heard the foot steps were running he felt his mouth twitch. _Maybe I will kill a man tonight, bout fucking time._  He squinted his eyes and wrapped his hands around the hilt of his sword. _Your'll wish you ran the other way…_ He unsheathed it and held the steel straight a head of him. Soon Sandors blood was pumping hard again, a rush of adrenalin pushed around his body. _Been too long since I killed a man_. He thought. _And too long since I fucked a woman._

 “Who goes there?” He called out into the darkness, ready to slice down anyone who might stand in his way.

 He was answered with a gasp and the figure stopped still in their tracks.

There was an erie pause. It remind Sandor of the silence just before battle. 

 “Please...no. Don’t hurt me!” A tiny voice cried, stepping forward again. Their skin seemed to glow even in the darkness. He soon realised it was a woman, he could see the skirts of her dress moving as she walked. _So it is one of the imps whores then._ He wandered if he should pay her for a tumble himself, he was still raging from his thoughts of the little bird earlier. He sheathed his sword and stepped towards her, only to see that it _was_ the little bird. He could make out her little pink lips trembling in the darkness _._ He squinted to see her face to make sure that she was real. She looked tired and sad, though as beautiful as ever. _I can't bloody escape her.._

 “I’m sorry, I was just returning to my chambers.” She mumbled reaching out to lean on the wall, pushing her hair back with her other hand. She looked flustered and scared.  _What’s wrong with her?_  He narrowed his eyes. _I smell a lie._

 “At this hour?” He rasped, stepping forward to tower over her. _She’s been with the king, In his bed._ As they moved towards each other the moon met them both through a window above, revealing a dishevelled head of auburn hair and glassy blue eyes. 

 “You shouldn’t be wandering about on your own.” He rasped.

 “It was his Graces wish that I left, my handmaidens weren’t to know.”

 “Was it your wish as well? to leave?” He said, wondering if she truly enjoyed being in his bed. He found himself faced with a flash of jealously, angry that she was with Joff and not with him. _Jealous of that greasy little cunt!_  The thought almost made him laugh. _The boy is little more than a rat dressed in fancy clothes._

 “I…I will do whatever my King asks. It pleases me to please my husband.” She was looking down onto the floor.

"Tweeting those little songs again are we?"

She shot him a sorry look and parted her lips.

 “Does it please you to be in his bed?” he found himself saying, grabbing her wrist. She swayed a little as he did and stumbled over his boot. _She’s drunk,_ he realised. It was the first time he had seen her drunk; usually it was him wandering the halls in the night with a belly full of wine.

 “No…it doesn’t please me. Not one little bit…but I wasn't in his bed…I...” she said breathlessly, so quiet Sandor almost didn’t hear. She leaned forward and the sudden closeness made him realise the iron grip he had on her wrist. They found themselves face-to-face, so close he could smell the scent of wine and mint on her breath, yet neither made a move to pull away.

 “I would rather be in yours…” She whispered softly.

He almost let out a laugh but the look on her face made it choke in his throat. She looked fiery and passionate, her hair fallen in front of her face. _She looks like a statue of the maiden but with the eyes of the warrior._ He lifted her face with his thumb for a better look. _Statue of the maiden, pfft...Look what she does to you, you sound like a fucking poet._

 “Your drunk.” He rasped, peering at her with angry eyes. _The drink has made her bold, she doesn’t know what she’s saying._

 “No.” she whispered, placing a hand over his, leaning into him. "Well...perhaps just a little. The King kept making me sip my wine."

Sandor rolled his eyes.

"Let me take you back to your cage."

 “No, Just hold me, please.” Is all she said, laying her head on his chest. It was all the words he had ever dreamed of hearing her saying, yet he found himself holding back. _She’s drunk, she doesn’t want this, not truly._ But how could he deny her? Yet he was almost scared to touch her, like his touch would only bring her only fear and pain. _She’s had enough of that to last a lifetime, I don’t need to hurt her too._

“Stop, little bird.” He said trying to pull away. _Before you do something you’ll regret._

 She leaned closer to him again, parting her lips ever so slightly making a little ‘o’ shape. He felt his cock stir in his breeches as he watched her chest begin to heave. _Is this a bloody dream? It’s a sweet one if it is._ Her porcelain skin was glowing, even in the darkness of the hallway. She was looking right up at him with those big blue eyes, _Seven hells I want to fuck her._  Sansa was looking at him, without a shadow of fear on her face. _She can look at me now_ , he thought. _She's not scared of these scars anymore._  She clung onto his arm just staring at him, as if he were the one person she had been searching for, for a hundred years.

"Did you mean what you said. That you stayed because of me?" She whispered. 

He couldn't help but narrow his eyes, _Its like she can't believe I've got a heart somewhere underneath all this armour_. It made him angry all over again and he snapped "Don't fucking flatter yourself." 

She made a little sighing sound and looked completely taken a back. She went to pull away, tears welling in her eyes again. _Fuck sake Clegane Just tell her, what have you got to bloody loose?_

"Someone has to protect you. No wolves left here, so a dog will have to do. "

He said it begrudgingly. But Sansa beamed him a huge smile all the same. The hand on his arm tightened. 

"I can't stop thinking of you…" She whispered. 

She licked her bottom lip softly, tilting her head as if she knew exactly what it would do to him. It pushed Sandor over the edge and he found himself pushing her up against the wall in a shadow of darkness. He could no longer see her face but felt her hands reach up and place themselves on his chest, clinging on to the metal of the plate. _Fuck I shouldn’t._ He told himself, but he found his hands wrapped around her tiny waist. He knew he was rougher than he should have been; _she’s just a girl. She’s Jofferys play thing. Not mine._ Though his thoughts didn’t make him want her any less. He could feel the warmth of her through her dress, the curve of her shape. She closed the gap between them and pressed herself against him, so he could feel her breath lightly on his face. The over whelming urge to kiss her took over him but he stopped himself. _She’s not some fucking whore._

He was about to push her away, to walk off and leave her there in the shadows. _She’s playing with me, and this is a dangerous fucking game._ A voice in his head told him to do it, to just reach out and take her, right there, but he shook his head as if to try and rattle them out of his brain. _She’s turning me soft as shit. I need to go, I can’t. She’s drunk that’s all this is._ He went to let her go, but he felt her slowly brush her face against his, their noses touching as she found his lips in the darkness. She kissed him ever so gently with those soft little wet lips of hers, her mouth tasted of mint and wine. She lingered for a moment and slowly pulled away, as if she were hesitating to kiss him again. He thought she might turn to leave, to run off back down the hall, but for Sandor it was not enough. He felt his mouth twitch as he eyed her shadow eagerly, pushing her half into the moonlight. Now that he had a taste, he wanted so much more _. I’m not one of her fucking flower knights. I want her, I’m going to have her, I’ll fuck her right here in this hallway._ Lust raged through him and he saw red, there was no stopping himself anymore. In that moment all that existed was her flesh and his. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed his body tightly against hers, and they deepened their kiss. _Fuck, she wants this just as much as me._ His tongue explored her mouth as she cupped his ruined cheek with her hand. He trailed down and started to kiss her neck, licking the sweet taste of her skin whilst she sighed breathlessly. _She tastes even better than I imagined._

 His hands were all over her now, exploring her, reaching up cup to her breasts, filling his hand. _Need to get this armour off._  His cock was rock hard, throbbing with want for her. The little birds hands slid up under his white scaled cuirass, running over the bottom of his stomach, feeling for the muscles, tracing the lines. _That’s it, just a little lower._ He grabbed her breasts harder this time, pushing her hard against the wall into the complete darkness of an alcove, parting her legs with his own. Her breath was ragged, yet she was making quiet little sighing sounds as he sucked on her sweet skin. Her fingernails dug into the back of his neck as she leant her head back. _I can't have her here, i'll take her back to my bed._ He thought he heard her murmur ‘yes’, but he couldn’t be sure. _This is so fucking dangerous, what if someone comes? Fuck it I want her. I want her right now._ He reached down to pull her skirts up but suddenly she tensed up. _Little fucking cock tease,_ he wanted to snarl at her. She went rigid all at once and pulled away from his grasp. _See, she doesn’t really want you,_ a voice said in his mind, a voice that reminded him of his brother. His face flashed before his eyes and he pushed her away. There were steps coming down the hall, more than one, and hushed voices. He didn’t want to pull away, not yet, not now – but he knew he had to. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her along the hall, pulling open a door and stuffing her inside. She turned around to look at him with wide eyes before he shut the door, his finger over his lip, telling her to hush. The Hound turned to pace back up the hall, but the voices were just around the corner. _Fuck._ He changed direction, as if to walk past them. His blood was pumping, his cock still hard. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, as if to check it was still there. The realisation comforted him.

 He glanced up only to be greeted by two very shocked looking faces. It was the fat Eunuch and that slimy little fucker Baelish. _What the fuck are they up too at this time?_   He thought. _Sly ones they are._  Varys was grinning. It was making Sandor nervous.  _What if he heard us? What if he knows?!_  He has his little eyes everywhere. Suddenly he found himself feeling strangely uncomfortable and worried for the little bird. His fingers were pressed on the hilt of his sword.  _If she gets caught, fuck, If she gets hurt... it will be all my fault._

As they reached each other the pair stopped in front of him.

“Clegane.” Varys said with a stiff nod and a wry smile.

"Bit late for a walk isn't it?" Sandor rasped.

"Or a bit early. Depending on how you look at it."

Baelish twisted the hair on the end of his beard and edged past The Hound.

"Well...as much as I would love to stay and chat, I think we must press on, my Lord."

Sandor frowned. "Fuck off then."

Varys spat out a chuckle.

No one seemed to mind his lack of curtsies and he certainly didn’t feel like giving them now. A long moment passed after the steps retreated down the hall, and he turned to go back to the door where he had hidden the little bird. He waited a moment, straining his ears for any other footsteps, and opened the oak door. _She looks so fucking innocent standing there, her hands up to her mouth, as white as the snow, her hair a mess._

“Anyone in here?” He rasped _._

She shook her head. He glanced around the room, it was dark but he only saw odd pieces of furniture and empty barrels.

 “Quickly.” Was all he whispered pulling her again by the wrist and out into the hallway, before anyone else decided to take a late night stroll. She turned back to him, eyes glassy with tears.

 “I’m sorr-“ Her voice was a quite as a mouse.

 “Go.” He said sternly. Sansa turned and stumbled as she went, he watched her wander off down the hall in a hurry.

 It had all happened so quickly.  _What the fuck was I thinking?_ He was so close to having her, but he knew it couldn’t last. He was a halfwit to think otherwise. _But she was so willing. She wanted it._ For a second he almost wished they had been caught, just to see the look on the Lordlings faces, that a monster like The Hound could have the little pretty bird. _She said she wanted to be in my bed._ His cock seemed to stir again at the thought. He pictured her there in his bed amongst the skins, rolling over and looking at him with sleepy eyes and a mass of auburn hair. He couldn’t seem to shake the image from his mind. He remembered the taste of her neck, of her soft skin. _She would have let me have her, right there like some whore._ Yet somehow that angered him. _She’s not a whore, she's the little bird._  He found himself following her direction, only to curse himself and turn back towards the Kings chambers. _Did she tense up because she heard the footsteps or because I went to slip my hand between her thighs?_ He kept trying to shake his head to get the thoughts out, but they were going nowhere. _She’s turned me into a buggering fool. If someone caught us I’d have my head on a spike. No bloody girl is worth that._ He sighed with irritation, rubbing his hands over his face, pacing down the hall _. For fuck sake. Who am I trying to fool? The little bird is worth dying a thousand deaths, each one gorier than the last._

 

**Sansa**

Sansa pushed her face into her feather pillow, whispering his name into the silk. She rolled onto her back but the room was spinning so fast she thought she might throw up, just as Joffery had _. I’ve never been so drunk_ , she realised. She sat up suddenly feeling ill, and pulled off her heeled boots. As she leant forward, she thought she could smell the Hound, the leathery male scent she inhaled when she was wrapped up in his arms. _What if we had gotten caught?_ The thrill of it all had made her dizzy with excitement. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest and the smile on her face was making her cheeks hurt. She was sure she was blushing a crimson red, though luckily no one was there to see it. She slipped silently into her chambers, hoping she hadn’t woken Shae in the adjoining room. _I hope no one saw us. If Joffery were to find out…_ The fear curdled in he stomach as she thought of his name. _He’ll kill me, he’ll kill us both._ She started to unroll her stockings and threw them lazily onto the floor. _If anyone is to ask, I’ll tell them that I simply left Jofferys room, nothing more._

 Her hands were clumsy as she struggled to take off her dress in the dark without her handmaidens help. _Maybe I could wake up Shae, she wouldn’t tell, would she?_ Sansa shrugged off the dress and laid it on the back of her chair. She tip toed back across the room and laid back down onto the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. There was an aching inside of her that she had felt only once before; it left her breathless and hot. She flew off her covers and slipped off her silken shift dress. _I said I wanted to be in his bed,_ it almost made her cringe. _He’s going to think me a wanton. What if he tells someone, what if he tells the King?_ Her heart was still beating so hard and fast that she thought it might never stop. When she shut her eyes she saw his face again stood there in the shadows of the hallway. She wanted to kiss him again; she wanted the feeling of his body on top of hers. _He’s so strong, but gentle too._ Sansa had never felt this way before, she wanted to slap herself and hug herself all at the same time. _He's the Hound._ She tried to reason in her head, over and over again. _I'm a Queen, I can't go around kissing knights in the shadows of hallways. Wait, he's not even a knight._  She never thought she would find herself feeling this way about someone, other than her husband, especially not a man like the Hound. _What would everyone think of me?_ She could almost hear the jeers of the ladies in court, the names that they would call her. She flung herself back down into the pillows again, feeling like she were about to burst into tears. 

 But as she closed her eyes she remembered how he kissed her back and a smile crept across her face once more. She remembered how he had sucked her neck and she found herself tracing her hands over where his lips had been. Her own thoughts even made her blush as she rolled about in the bed wishing he were there beside her. She couldn’t keep herself still, just squirmed in the sheets imagining that the covers were his hands caressing her, not the silk. _He had meant to lift up my skirts._ She remembered, before she heard the footsteps. _Would I have let him if I hadn’t?_ She tried to imagine how it would feel for his rough manly hands to slide up her thighs and between her legs. The thought caused her to let out a muffled sigh into her pillow and run her hands over her breasts. Her nipples were so hard, and sensitive to touch. _Is this what it is meant to feel like when a man takes you into his bed?_ She wondered _._ _Joffery has never made me feel this way._ Sansa found herself wondering if she truly should have left with Sandor all those moons ago, when he asked her to leave with him. _Maybe he still would? He could be the shining knight I have been waiting for, just not quite how I imagined him._ She wanted to scold herself for thinking such silly thoughts. _Im not a little girl anymore, I am a woman grown, a Queen._

Sansa knew she should stop herself, _What would Septa Mordane think if she could see me now? Or Mother? I'm no wanton, I'm married._ She knew she should roll over and go to sleep but she couldn’t get the thought of the man out of her mind. She remembered how he grabbed her breasts so hard it almost hurt, but she had almost liked it. Sansa tried to do the same to herself and found her head leaning back into the pillow, her breath fast and shallow _. He’s the Hound._ She reasoned with herself. _I can’t have thoughts like this about the Hound._ She tried to picture his scared face but it didn’t seem to bother her much anymore, she kept thinking of his body instead and how he had touched her. As she rolled around in her bed she felt a wetness between her legs and slowly let her hand slide down there gently. It felt wicked and wrong but she wanted it so badly she allowed herself to move her fingers over the wet folds of skin. Soon she found herself rocking her hips against them and she was rubbing harder than before. She imagined hearing him rasping _‘little bird’_ as he had, into her ear, in that rough harsh voice. Sansa arched her back and pressed her fingers against he nub of flesh that was starting to feel so good, as her wet fingers slipped over it. Yet it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t his fingers, his hands. She imagined his thick muscular arms pinning her to the bed, forcing her to lie beneath him. The thought of it excited her, the idea that he could so easily over power her, there would be nothing she could do.

It left her dizzy and suddenly she sat up in the darkness. Looking down, her skin was gleaming with sweat in the moonlight. _How will I face him on the morrow?_ She asked herself, brushing her hair back with her fingers. _What will he think of me?_ The room was spinning again so she stared up at the ceiling, wandering what the Hound had thought about her kissing him. _But_ _he didn't push me away, he didn't want me to stop._  Sansa wondered if he would have had his way with her, right there in the hallway, had she let him. She remembered all the things he had said to her, how he said he would make her his if he could. It sent her heart a flutter again and she smiled face down into the pillow. _He wants me just as I want him._ Soon she drifted off into a deep sleep, having dreams full of birds and dogs and wolves, chasing one another, as if it were a game.


	6. Such a fool.

** Sansa **

Lord Tywin had arranged for the Lannister family to sup with him that evening in one of the smaller halls, an offer that made Sansa feel quite uneasy.Lord Tywin had never supped with her before - spare special occasions - in fact she felt he had made himself rather alouf since the wedding. If it wasn't for Lord Tywin, the Battle of Blackwater would have been lost, _and The Gods only know what would have happened to me then._  Joffery disregarded his uncle as Hand, and immediately named his grandfather the new Hand of the King. Sansa found him an frightening man, stiff and cunning, and barely seen. He chose mostly to stay in his tower, only to attend small council meetings that Sansa was not allowed to join.

Ser Balon had came earlier that morning to tell her that all of the Lannister family had been summoned while she was breaking her fast. _I am a Lannister, they have made me a Lannister._ she realised _, not a Baratheon._ Sansa had heard some truly wretched court gossip earlier that day; however apparently the city had been talking about it for quite some time. They were saying that Joffery is born of incest, between Lord Jamie and Cersei, a thought that made her physically shiver. _It can't be true, it can't. Thats disgusting._ When Lady Tander told her she felt so sick she almost threw up her lemon cakes. She remembered something her mother once told her about the Targaryens, how they married brother and sister for years to keep the bloodline pure. Still, it all seemed so wrong to Sansa, something that the Gods would most definitely frown upon. The idea of having to marry Robb or even Jon felt bizaree beyond words. Her mother said that every time a Targaryen was born, the Gods would flip a coin for them to be mad or brilliant. She had heard tales of Maegor the cruel and Balon the Blessed, though it seemed to Sansa they were all a little mad. At first she had not believed the disgusting tales the ladies had told her, until she realised maybe that was the reason for Jofferys own cruel madness.

 _There must be something important Lord Tywin wishes to tell us all._ She thought, as Shae dressed her for the evening supper. _But why would he want me present? No one tells me anything....Unless?_ A pang of fear prickled like a rash all over her body. _Perhaps they knew about the Hound? Perhaps someone saw me kissing him_. The terror of it all made her feel faint and she leant back only to be caught by Shae’s open arms. 

“Whats wrong your grace?” She called, sitting her down onto her chair.

“Nothing, nothing. I…I don’t feel well, that’s all.”

Suddenly Sansa’s head was spinning and she couldn’t catch her breath. She had felt unwell all day, but more nervous than sick. She must had walked the gardens half a hundred times, hoping the fresh air would help her pounding head; but more so she would avoid the Hound. Much to Sansa’s relief she had not seen him, and prayed she wouldn’t for a time. _I don’t think I can bring myself to even look at him._ Every time she closed her eyes she seemed to see his face looking back at her. His ruined mouth sucking on her neck. 

Joffery had not summoned her though, as she had first feared. When she sat down for her afternoon tea with Lady Sybell - still without a word- she thought she might have gotten away with it. _The Hound wouldn’t tell, he’d be in just as much trouble as I,_ she realised. But now she was to be summoned to supper with Joffery, Cersei, Tommen, Tyrion, Kevan and Tywin himself. _They know, they must. S _omeone must have seen us._ They’re going to kill me._ Tears began to roll down her cheeks and she started to panic. _  
_

“You drank too much wine last night your Grace, that’s all. The feeling will pass. Let me fetch you some water.” Shae said as the others tried to soothe her.

 _It was the wine that made me do it_ , Sansa thought, _I never would have been so bold if it wasn’t for the wine…_ Yet she found herself thinking about it all day. Remembering the way Sandor had held her made her heart beat a little faster every time it came back into her mind.  _I wonder what it would be like to wake up in his bed?_ The thought made her blush all over again. She found herself wondering if the Hound shared his bed with anyone else, or whether he visited whorehouses like the other members of the Kings Guard. Though Sansa found she didn’t like thinking about that at all. The night before had left her ever so confused, and the questions plaguing her mind just seemed to grow and grow. She knew she shouldn't have kissed him, yet she wanted to so badly. _Perhaps that is why._

When she woke in the morning she found him to be the first thing on her mind, yet it was not regret or embarrassment, but something she could only call excitement. The thought of him made her smile and she caught a glimpse of a grin in her mirror as she got ready. The danger of it all had only seemed to add to the thrill, it felt like it was their own little secret and they were the only ones to ever know. Sansa just found herself hoping it would stay that way, yet she was worried that someone would notice her acting different around him. Every time she would see him she was sure would blush scarlet.  _I'll wear my curtsey as my armour_ , she told herself. _I won't so much as look at him, or pay him any mind._

Once shae had calmed her somewhat, Sansa chose a green dress with a golden ribbon that crossed up from her navel to her breast, and long pointed sleeves that almost touched the floor. She wanted to be certain she looked her best. _I must be strong. I am a Stark of Winterfell._  If they were to question her or punish her for what she had done, she must face it like a Queen, not like the scared little girl that she was before. As the months passed after her wedding she was starting to become braver in her new role, although she still very much felt like a prisoner. One of her hand maidens tugged on her hair roughly as she put it up into a braid, the sharp pain made her curse and pull away. Sansa tried to reason with herself that they wouldn’t know about what had happened the night before, _but why else would they all summon me? Shall I deny it? Should I lie?_  

Her tummy still felt uneasy from all of the wine she had the night before, though Shae told her to drink lots of water and get some fresh air. Once she was fully dressed she dowsed herself in her favourite scent and took the long walk around to where they would be eating. She wanted to walk outside to feel the sun on her shoulders before she sat down with the family, to calm her nerves. Although when she reached the small hall they would be dining in she was a nervous wreck. Her hand maidens followed her to the door in silence, her eyes following the cracks in the floor, though she could hear other steps walking towards her. Sansa finally lifted her eyes from the stone only to be met with King Joffery’s eyes; green, scowling and bloodshot.

“Sansa.” Was all he said eyeing her with a look of distaste. Behind him was the tall dark shadow of Sandor Clegane, though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She almost felt his touch again, his hands wrapped around her waist like they had the night before. She found herself feeling weak at the knees and had to look down at the stone floor once again. As they entered the feasting hall she felt his presence leave, and glanced over her shoulder to see that he had went to stand guard outside. She felt a flood of relief, yet she didn't want to leave her eyes from the doorway either. 

Lord Tywin was the last to enter the hall, wearing a black and red leathered jerkin that was slightly pointed at the shoulders. Sansa found him rather intimidating, even more so than his daughter. Cersei wore her hair down and loose, a small braid clipped at the crown of her head. Her dress wasn't one of her best, a pale blue satin with silver lining, quite simple compared to her usual ostentatious gowns.  _She still looks beautiful._  Sansa couldn't help but envy her beauty, no matter how much she hated her spirit. Tyrion Lannister seemed as drunk as he usually was, downing his cup before Sansa even managed to take a sip of her own. He smiled at her warmly, though she didn't return the favour. _He's so ugly._  Kevan Lannister gave her a similarly warm smile, though it still seemed to her that his face was made of stone. Little Tommen sat on his cushion playing with his fork, a cheeky smile on his plump face. Everybody greeted one another in the correct way, and returned compliments and small talk as the drinks were served. For a time it felt almost cordial, if a little forced. The first course was a soup of buttered potato and stewed snails, though it was far to rich for Sansa’s taste. The nerves in her stomach made it even harder for her to swallow and she wasn’t sure she would keep it down. Cersei made a comment about how pale she looked and asked whether her moon blood had come.

“No, your grace. Not yet. I hope to be with child.” Sansa said, forcing herself to smile.

“Good. I was wandering how you were doing on that front.” Tywin said to his grandson, who looked equally unwell. Sansa frantically tried to think of some pleasant conversation, before he could mention how they had failed to share a bed the night before.

“Joffery suggested the name Tytos, after your father, my Lord. Or Joffery the second, after himself.”

“Tytos? My father was a fool. And Joffery? Rather arrogant to name your son after yourself. We will find another.” Tywin sniffed, his eyes refusing to meet her own.

There was an awkward pause as those seated around the table waited for Jofferys response. 

“What did you just say grandfather?” He finally sneered, though he looked too woozy to properly bother giving him any wrath. _I hope he’s been sick all day_. Sansa thought, remembering how he tried to put his wormy lips on hers. Tywin simply turned his head back towards the other direction of the table. Sansa followed his lead as the others did, in the hope he would not further the conversation. 

“As you may all know, Petyr Baelish will be leaving for the Vale on the morrow - to wed Lysa Arryn. This means he will be acting as Lord of the Vale, and bring the Eerie into the fold. However, this does mean we will be needing a new master of coin.” Lord Tywin said.

“But with Margery and Tommen to be married within the month, we will need someone to manage the finances. The Tyrells are just as lavish as Lannisters. I expect they will want a wedding feast to envy Joffery and Sansa’s.” Tyrion said, raising an eyebrow. Sansa saw a flash of her own wedding feast, and her brother’s head rolling across the floor, the memory caused her to push away her plate. _I miss Rob._ She remembered how the flakes of snow melted in his hair the last time she saw him all those years ago. Joffery shot her a look from across the table but Sansa returned her gaze quickly to her cup. 

Tywin turned to his son, Tyrion.

“Which is why I am naming you new master of coin.” 

Cersei let out a muffled laugh and brought her wine goblet to her mouth.

“I’m rather good at spending money, but a lifetime off outrageous wealth hasn’t made me very good at managing it.” Tyrion protested.

“A reward for your _valour_ is what you wanted. Here it is.” Tywin said shortly, laying his knife down onto the table. Before Tyrion could object again he raised his hand to silence him. 

"It is also high time that young Tommen found himself a sufficient match."

"Father, he is ten." Cersei snapped placing her hand on the boys shoulder.

"By which time I had already promised you to Rhaegar Targaryen, had he not got himself killed." Lord Tywins lips pursed.

Cersei's face twisted into a scowl which she hid partially with a wine glass.

"The Tyrell's have proved a financially beneficial ally of late. One that may come in useful in keeping the throne through these tortuous times. In the words of House Stark, _Winter is coming,_ and High Garden hold the majority of our grain. It would be wise to have them on our side. Mace Tyrell has a young daughter, lady Margery. She will be visiting soon with the rest of the Tyrell's. She and Tommen will be promised to one another, if the little prince approves of course." His lips moved into what she supposed was meant to be a smile.

Tommen's eyes were wide, it was clear he had no idea what was going on. Cersei rubbed his arm protectively. 

“Now, the real reason why I have summoned you all here.” Tywin announced, getting to his feet. He looked right at her. 

Sansa’s stomach tightened so much she was certain she would retch. Lord Tywin pointed over to the door, his face still as stone. _This is it, they are going to bring in the Hound and hang us both. They know…they must….They're going to bring him in..._

But when her eyes lifted up from her lap, another man was stood in the doorway. A man not nearly so tall or intimidating as Sandor Clegane. A scraggly aging man was stood looking back at them, though he was dressed in a beautiful beige leather jerkin. It was studded with gold all across the front in the shape of a lion reaching up towards the collar. It looked as though someone had taken a common street beggar and dressed him in royal clothing. His hair was long and messy, his eyes were sunken deep into his face and his cheeks gaunt. He smiled at them all, revealing yellowing teeth. _Who is he?_ Cersei let out a gasp and pushed herself away from the table, knocking over cups and plates. The servants jumped back in the chaos, fleeing away from the table. Sansa returned her eyes to him, and saw that he was missing one of his hands. A stump poked out from the sleeve of where his fingers should have been.

“Jamie?!” Cersei cried, her hands over her mouth. 

The mans smile broke into a huge grin. _Oh my, It’s Jamie Lannister._ Cersei ran over to him in a flash of blue satin and white trim, hanging off his shoulders like a drape, sobbing into his jerkin. _'Jamie',_ she said over and over again. The sudden outburst of emotion from Cersei surprised Sansa, she had never seen the woman act out this way, let alone ever seen her _cry._

“Can it truly be you?” She asked him, reaching up to his cheek. 

Even Tywin had a mild smile on his hard face, and Tyrion was grinning from ear to ear. Kevan was muttering about how glad he was to see him and Tommen looked as though he might burst into a million pieces with excitement.  _There is some love in this family_ , Sansa noted. _However twisted and small._ Yet Joffery looked ever indifferent and let out a loud exaggerated sigh. 

“Uncle jamie!” Tommen cheered, as he came to sit down with them at the table.

“Your so thin, your hair, your beautiful golden hair.” Cersei said her eyes washing over him. Then she let out a howling cry. “Jamie. Your hand. Who done this to your hand?!” 

“The Goat of Harrenhal.” he said, waving his stump in the air. It was enough for Sansa’s stomach to flip all over again. She found herself wondering if she would feel the same if the Hound lost a hand. It was a strange thought, she knew, so she shook it from her mind. 

“Who? I must know more of how this happened. I'll murder them, I'll murder them myself!” Cersei sobbed uncontrollably. 

“You shall sweet sister, but not now. I am weary. Where is the wine?” Servants came tottering over serving him all manner of food and drink. He wasn’t at all how Sansa had remembered him, she watched him eagerly over the table, remembering how handsome she thought he once was. _He used to have gorgeous blonde hair._ Her eyes lingered over the greasy strands dangling in front of his face. _He looks more like a cattle herder than a knight._  

“You should have come sooner. You should have come straight to me.” Cersei huffed, waving away the servants offering fruits and cheese.

“I only arrived this afternoon, and I doubt you would have greeted me so warmly when I had shit smeared all over my face.”

Tommen started giggling uncontrollably, spitting his soup out onto his doublet, much to Cersei’s dismay. Tyrion thought it hilarious and patted his brother on the arm, splashing wine over himself. Soon they were bickering between each other until Tywin hushed them all in a loud and menacing tone.

"You are Lannisters. Stop acting like fools. Jamie, I am pleased you have been returned to us. Now we can put this stupidity behind us and you can finally take your place at Casterly rock, as my son and air."

Jamie's face dropped.

"My place is here-"

"We will not discuss it now."

"We will. I am not going to that rock. I am Lord Commander of the Kings Guard."

"A Lord Commander without a sword hand?" Tywin's eyes narrowed.

Jamie slammed down his cup in anger and Sansa found herself glancing over at the door. _I want to leave, I'd rather be anywhere but here._  She remembered that Sandor Clegane was on the other side of the door and smoothed her skirts. Moments passed and she looked around the table. Joffery was furiously stabbing at his food seemingly oblivious to the conversation in hand. At the head of the table Tywin Lannister still appeared mildy annoyed, his green and gold eyes peering over his cup. Not a word was said now, just uneasy looks flashed at one another as bites were eaten. _My new loyal and loving family._ Sansa thought sarcastically, also picking at her food. Flashes of home filled her mind, of Winterfell, the great hall where they held joyus feasts filled with music and mead _._   _Keep your eyes down._  She thought, not wanting to tempt fate. As the food was cleared Jamie Lannister cleared his throat and seemed to finally catch sight of Sansa and turned to her. She tensed up. 

“Well...It appears I have a new sister and a new Queen. Welcome to the family, your grace.” Jamie said, kissing her lightly on the back of her hand. It was a gesture that long ago would have made her blush, though she found herself just wanting to pull away from his touch.

“It is so good to finally make your acquaintance properly, my lord. I am so glad you are back home safe.” 

“Yes. Well…not all of me, but most of me.”

Sansa smiled but her Septa hadn't taught her any courteous answers to give a man who had lost his hand. She was worried she would only make it worse, so she took a sip of water instead.  

They finished their supper as they heard tales of where Jamie had been and how he had made it home. Many of which Sansa found too gruesome to listen to over dinner, so she left most of the venison and carrots that were served soon after the soup. One character Sansa found most interesting was a woman called Brienne of Tarth, a woman who thought herself a knight. The idea of it made her giggle and she found herself wanting to meet her at once. _I bet Arya would have liked her,_ she found herself thinking. Once the tales were told and the supper was done, they brought in Bethany fair fingers to play them the lute. Cersei and Jamie were sat together, whispering in each others ears. _Like lovers_. Sansa thought, screwing up her nose. Lord Tywin had already asked to be excused, so Sansa found herself entertaining and singing with young Tommen and his nurse. _He’s such a lovely boy,_ Sansa thought, _nothing like his brother._ She told him stories that old Nan used to tell her when she was little, ones about giants and warriors who rode shadow cats. It was nice to let herself relax, with Tommen she could act like a child again, back to a time when she had no worries or problems. _He's too young to marry._ She thought. _Let him play a little longer._

“Dog!” Joffery shouted unexpectedly, causing Sansa’s heart to jump right out of her chest. He came walking through the door, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. “Take me back to my chambers, this bitch is boring me." 

Sansa wasn’t sure if he was referring to herself or to the bard, but she curtseyed him off all the same. She was sure someone would feel the tension in the room as Sandor entered, but no one seemed to notice. She let her eyes flit up to him, but his stare was cold and hard, as if he hadn’t even noticed her. _Perhaps he’s angry with me,_ she thought. _He always seems to be angry with me._ After they left she felt a little sad that he hadn't looked at her, even though she knew he wouldn't.

When she returned to her chambers later that night, Sansa found herself exhausted. She didn’t think she could carry on like this, the guilt of their kiss following her around like some horrible looming cloud. _They don’t know_. She kept telling herself. _They would have said by now._ She wondered what the return of jamie would mean for her, if it meant that he would be staying in the Red Keep or going back to Casterly Rock. She found herself feeling sorry for him, now that he had lost his hand, wondering whether he would still be able to fight as the warrior he once was. She wondered what Margery would be like, and hoped that they would get along. _I wonder if she will be stupid like I was? If she has any clue as to what she is marrying into?_

Shae brushed out her long hair as she played with the doll her father had once given her when she first arrived in Kings Landing. Its face was starting to peel and the straw that stuffed it was all uneven, but she loved it all the same. _I wish father were here. He would know what to do._ She knew playing with dolls was silly, but it made her feel close to him somehow. She tried to picture his face though it seemed harder than it had been before. Sansa prayed to the mother for strength, then to the warrior to send down some knight to save her from her fate. She knew it was no use, _that is was stupid,_ yet prayed for it anyway, as she had so many nights before.

The days were passing faster, and it was soon that Joffery would demand a child from her, else wise have her head. There was nothing she could do. She was trapped and it dawned on her that no one was ever going to rescue her. All her family were dead. Sansa prayed for her family, that one day they would all be laid to rest below the castle of Winterfell, together where they all belonged. That was the least she could hope for. She took a moment to picture each one of their faces, in as much detail as she could remember. The thought soothed her. As she laid her head down upon the pillow and closed her eyes, she thought of her sister again. She wondered what Arya would think of her and the Hound. _She’d call him ugly and laugh at me for being so silly._ It made her smile, but when she slipped her hand underneath the pillow she was met with a piece of parchment, rolled up tight into reel.

 

**SANDOR**

 

Sandor Clegane stood watching the man he once knew as Jamie Lannister with a look of pure amusement. _He looks like a fucking drowned rat._ He had aged a good ten years since Sandor had last seen him, and then of course there was his hand. _If someone cut off my sword hand I've have them slit my bloody throat with it,_ he thought, eyeing the golden fingers that now took its place. _A golden hand._ He chuckled to himself in his head. _I wonder if he'll fuck Cersei with it._ The knights of the Kingsguard sat around the table of the white sword tower, summoned by Joffery to discuss the new arrangements. Sandor had been acting as Lord Commander, though never actually knighted, _and never fucking would be_. This was much to the dismay of the small council however, Joffery had refused anyone else other than his loyal dog, knighting or no knighting. It was not a role Sandor yearned for, yet he did not refuse it. It gave him an opportunity to be more than just a jumped up body guard. A title that had began to wear very thin. He had helped plan the defence of the castle during the Battle of Blackwater, and lead the men through the gate to battle... that is before all was almost lost. 

Joffery took at seat next to his uncle.

"As you are all well aware my uncle Jamie has returned.." He said, as the men gave each other concerned looks. "And The Kingsguard needs to be restored to its former..glory."

The room burst into growls and murmurs. _I'm surrounded by a bunch of cunts._  He realised, looking at the sorry excuses of men that sat around him. The Kingsguard - A band of brothers sworn to protect the King. 'The fiercest warriors in all of the Seven Kingdoms!" _HA! I could murder everyone of these pricks with one hand round my cock and my eyes shut. Fucking spineless and weak, thats what they are._ Sandor spat onto the floor. 

 _Who is the boy going to get rid of then?_ He wandered. Ser Boros Blount perhaps? The short-tempered, old little man with a broad chest and tiny, bandy legs. _Far too old to swing a sword anymore._  Or Ser Preston Greenfeild? Sorry excuse for a knight if there ever was one. _Comes up to my fucking waist._  Ser Arys Oakheart was all the way off in Dorn and fucking dead for all we know. Who did that leave? The new shining knight that was Ser Loras Tyrell? _I've fucked women that look more of a man than him. Still a boy, and green at that._ He spat once more. Last and most definitely least was the one he was hoping for. The toad that was Ser Meryn Trant. He rubbed his red beard as Sandor eyed him. The bags under his eyes hung like Maester Paecylles balls. The _only one of these cunts who can actually swing a sword and he likes to fuck and beat little girls._  Sandor thought he looked nervous. His beedy eyes darting all around the room. _One day i'll slice my sword so far up his arse it'll come out his throat._ This time he hacked up a big ball of phlegm and he spat it on the floor.

"Charming." The Kingslayer sneered with his usual air or arrogance. 

Other men were in the room as well, though standing behind. Other _Sers_ who wanted in on the Kingsguard. Most were new faces, ones from high garden he supposed. A few old ones lingered though, like the cold hard face of Ser IIyn Payne.

"My uncle will be acting as new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, for now. He has still to prove he can protect me without his hand.." Joff glanced over at his uncle with a sneer.

"I am perfectly able your grace, its more of a challenge for them this way." The smile Jamie gave him was almost enough to slice his face in two. Joff turned to Sandor, his hand brushing back the dirty blonde locks on his head again. The men in the room muttered again. It was clear Ser Jamie Lannister was not a popular choice. 

"My uncle wishes that you be removed from the Kingsguard, Dog. Being that you will not accept your knighting."

"I'm no fucking ser." He barked. 

Ser Balon and Ser Meryn unsheathed an inch of their swords in a rage, the light glistened off the steel. 

"How dare you disrespect the king!" Ser Meryn shouted, his ugly face turning a ruby red to match his beard. The other men seemed to stir in their seats too, though no one made a sound. 

Joffery only smiled and raised a hand for the men to re-sheathe their swords. Sandor found himself hoping they wouldn't. _I'd cut these green boys down before they could beg for their mother._ Sandor hated the other Kings guard, their knighthoods meant nothing but lies and bullshit. 

"Don't worry Dog, I have another task for you. You have always been loyal to me and I still want you close. You will remain in the Kingsguard, and stay by my side, though you will take a slightly new position."

 _What cunt do I have to follow around like a dog now? Tywin? Tommen? It better not be fucking Tommen. I'm not some fucking wet nurse._  Sandor tilted his head back ready for the blow Joffery would serve. _Just pay me in wine and gold and I don't fucking care._ He thought.  

"Your'll serve as newly acting Queens guard, to Sansa." Joff's mouth twisted into a smile. "My new Queen has a tendency to scutter off whenever she wants, this is something I need you to stop. And who better? You terrify her, the look on her face when you enter the room is better than any cruel jape I play on her. You can torture her when Im not there to do it myself. Of course Your'll protect the King as well. Given my uncle is practically lame.." He laughed.

The notion seemed to delight the boy King, yet Sandor found himself gritting his teeth together in a rage. _Queens guard? I'll have to follow the little bird around like a shadow, stand guard while she sleeps on the other side of her door._ He pictured her face, then pictured her lying seductively on her bed. Then for a moment the role didn't seem so bad, he felt like he could protect her properly, watcher her every move. But then he realised it would be asking for trouble. He had told himself he would keep a distance from her now, after the night she ran into him down the hall, yet his want for her just kept growing.

Being Queens Guard would mean being by her side day and night, and he wouldn't be able to control himself. The knowledge that she wanted him kept playing on his mind, he couldn't quite believe it. _She must be bloody mad, Jofferys made her loose her fucking wits._ He couldn't understand why someone as beautiful as her would want to kiss a monster like him. There had not been a moment that he had not stopped thinking about her since they're meeting, and it had truly grown too much to bare.  Joffery eyed Sandor eagerly, waiting for his agreement. He almost fought it, yet he found himself nodding like the loyal dog that he was. 

"Good. Ser Meryn will guard Tommen, and Margery when she arrives in a few days time. I'm sure your'll like like that, I hear she's a comely bitch. Might be I give her a visit myself when she gets here."

"But..I have always guarded The King himself, your grace." Ser Meryn wined like a little girl. His face showing utter disbelief. 

"And he thanks you for it." Jaime replied.

Joffery tugged down his doublet with a satisfied smile.

"Jaime, you arrange the rest."

"But your grace, there is much more to discuss. The war…"

"The war is won." 

"The war is not won. Not while Stannis lives." 

"We broke Stannis. Remember? On the Black water. Pity you weren't there to help uncle." 

And with that Joffery left the tower with Ser Meryn Trant following promptly behind, most certainly to argue is place in the guard. As soon as the boy King made his exit the rest of the men began to argue about who deserves which role spitting out insults about each other and why they should go. Ser Osmund pounded his fists on the table barking about how Ser Balon had threatened him the night before over a game of dice. Ser Loras shook his curly brown hair shouting profanities and Sandor found himself slamming his own hand down on the table. 

"You bicker like a bunch of fucking fish wives." Sandor growled, getting to his feet. 

"You have not yet been given leave." Jaime said turning to him.

"Fuck your leave." 

He marched out of the room, down the spiralling steps straight towards his chambers, to the wine skin he had left on his table. _Call themselves fucking knights._ he spat again. _Couldn't fight their way out of a fucking barrel._

Sandor had served the Lannisters for as long as he could remember, ever since he squired back when he was a boy. There was a time long ago when he dreamed of becoming a knight, of protecting the weak and becoming one of the most feared warriors in the seven kingdoms. Though that all changed when they knighted his brother, the title seemed to loose all glory and meaning. He wanted no part in it. His feet seemed to move without a thought and he soon found himself walking the halls of majors holdfast, his mind full of hateful words and bitter memories.  _  
_

As turned the corner the little bird was walking right towards him, her cheeks blushing. _She’s already bloody seen me._ He realised. He couldn’t help but eye her as she was staring at the floor. Her waist was so tiny he was sure he could have wrapped a single hand around it. Then he remembered how he had held her, how he felt the curve of her shape and how much he wanted to do it all over again. It had felt like an age since he had held her, but in reality it had only been a fortnight or so. As they grew closer she sped up her pace, her eyes still firmly on the floor. Her hair was blowing behind her, rippling in the sun.

“No point avoiding me girl.” Sandor growled. He watched her body tense up as she slowed beside him in passing.

“I’m to be your bloody Queens guard.”

 Sansa brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes moving from the floor to his boots.

“You scared to fucking look at me again now are you?”

She didn’t say a word. That angered him even more. He lent forward.

“Weren’t so shy before little bird.”

She reluctantly lifted her gaze, her cheeks blushing crimson, though she quickly flittered her eyes back to the floor.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re always fucking sorry.” He rasped at her. _She cant even fucking look at me. She embarrassed. Ashamed._

For a moment Sandor thought she might turn away and continue to run off down the hall, yet she lifted her eyes up to his own once more.

"I'm…I'm afraid you might find it a little dull. Being Queens guard…my Lord. I imagine the King would have it better you serving were you are needed most."

"You trying to get rid of me girl? Not my place to question the King." 

She dropped her hand from her mouth and Sandor found himself looking at her pink pouty lips.  

"I only meant…you may find it boring. Following me. I am not permitted to leave the castle walls."

"I've seen these walls a thousand times, seeing them a few times more shouldn't hurt."

She had gone back to reciting all the pretty little things her septa would have told her. She had been trying hard to avoid him and he knew it. He studied her face, remembered how she looked at him the night before. _She's so fucking beautiful._ He wandered what she must have thought, waking up and remembering the kiss they had shared. _She tasted so fucking sweet._ Sandor stared at her lips, watching them as they pouted when she spoke.

"Oh…well…thank you…my lord. I'll be leaving then…" She spoke nervously, her lip trembling slightly as she turned to walk away. 

"I'll escort you. _Your grace._ " He said it thick with sarcasm, jesting at the title. The idea that the little bird was his Queen still amused him. 

"Oh.. theres no need. I…I was just about to visit the Godswood." She stuttered.

"I have orders to guard you girl. I'll do my fucking job."

In truth Sandor just found himself wanting to be near her again. And now he had every reason too. _This is going to be dangerous._ He thought. _And fucking stupid._ He looked at the way her body clung tightly to her dress and how she had grown into her curves, looking like a real woman, no longer a girl. He made her feel as though how he did just before he entered battle. His heart would beat the same and his blood would rush around his body. He loved that feeling. Though he felt it strange a woman could give him it also.

"No…no its fine. I promise you. No harm will come to me there." She was mumbling. But his eyes were busy on her body.

 _Why doesn't she want me there? She's still embarrassed about that sweet little kiss she gave me._ He smiled at the thought, wandering whether he should torture her a little more. Sandor watched her turn to walk away, though her nervous movements and worried look caused him to wander. _Whats she bloody hiding?_ The little bird was practically shaking, looking as though she had seen the ghost of her bloody brother behind him. 

Sandor lowered his voice. "I need to speak with you about something, something I heard..." It had been playing on his mind. He had to tell her about the moon tea, as much as the thought of her carrying Jofferys child filled him with hate and dread, if she wasn't to conceive soon, she would be hung from her neck until dead. And the thought of Ser Illyn putting her pretty little head up on one of those spikes filled him with something much more sinister.

"Another time...soon. I'm sorry I must go."

"Little bird..."

"Please excuse me..my lord." Was all she mustered.

He watched her scurry along down the hall, as quick as her little feet would take her. She glanced over her shoulder as if to check he wasn't following her, her face a pale wash of white. Sandor stood for a moment considering whether to leave her and return to his wineskin sat on his table in his chambers. He almost left to go and taste the sour red wine that he had been longing for all day, yet something stopped him. _Theres something wrong._ He couldn't say why, yet he knew that something was not right. The way she spoke to him, the urge to leave him, without being followed, it wasn't just because of the kiss they shared. Something was wrong, though he didn't know what. He waited a moment, until she left his sight, then he continued to follow her towards the Godswood. He caught a flash of auburn hair blaze around a corner, then a flash of skirts around the next. She was running now, he realised. _What is she bloody up to?_

The sun was setting over the bay as he came to the top of the Godswood, looking down on it below. The clouds had covered most of the sky, though an orange light still crept through the gaps above. The wind was blowing hard, whistling in Sandors ears. He saw the top of her head disappear within the trees as he paced down the stone steps to the centre of the garden. As he reached the first clearing he caught site of two figures stood close within the shrubs and bushes behind the trees. They were leaning close together, then he saw one was a woman, the other a fatter shadow, that of a man. 

"I'm so glad that you came." He heard the man say as Sandor approached, his voice slurring as though he had drank a belly full of wine. 

The womans voice was quieter, and much softer, just like the little birds. _It can't be her._ He found himself thinking, wishing, hoping. _She wouldn't be meeting a man, would she?_ Sandor stormed forwards, pushing apart the branches of the trees. As he came to one of the weir wood trees he stood behind the trunk to cover his body from view, though he caught sight of Sansa whispering with a man facing the other way. Her expression was intense, her eyes wide and glassy. _What is she fucking doing?_

"My beautiful Jonquil. Did you get my letters?" He heard the man say. 

"Yes. But we can't keep meeting like this…its dangerous. If the King-" 

"But it is almost time my lady. You saved my life. Please let me repay the favour." The man was slurring, leaning into her with his hand on her arm. The rage inside of Sandor bubbled like a volcano ready to erupt in a fury of blood and steel. The idea of that vile bastard touching her beautiful pale skin was absolute agony and he found his heart went straight up into his throat. He was ready pull his great sword from his back and slice him down in a single swing. Yet Sansa placed her hand over his, softly, just like she had to Sandor the few nights before. 

"I must be quick, before they see that I am gone. But I have a present for you my sweetling. It is all that remains of my house. It was once my mothers." The man pulled something from his belt, though Sandor could not see what it was. 

"I cannot except it Ser. It is so very kind, but I cannot."

"I don't have anything else left. Please my beautiful Jonquil. Wear it and let my name have one more moment in the sun before it disappears forever."

She recoiled her hand and brought something to her chest. The bulging man leaning forward to kiss her sloppily on the cheek. 

"Thankyou." She whispered. Returning a soft kiss on a fleshy cheek.

Sansa turned away towards the path behind them, Sandor spun around to hide behind the tree, his hands still shaking with anger. His blood was pumping so hard he felt he could have cut down a thousand men if anyone were to stand in his way. 

"Farewell sweetling. It won't be much longer I promise you." The man called. As Sansa went to walk away Sandor peered around the tree again, at the man stood there. His face was plump and red, his nose covered with red veins and purple blotches. His eyes were watery and bloodshot, dark circles rimmed them underneath. Yet he looked familiar. He was wearing tattered clothes that were ripped at the shoulders. As he went to walk away Sandor saw that it was motley he was wearing.  _Its that fucking fool. Ser Dontos._

He didn't know wether to laugh or kill him right there and then, to leave him choking on his own blood in the bushes. _What is that little bitch doing? Opening her legs for every other cunt in the castle?! The little bird wouldn't do that. She's so fucking innocent. She can't_ be…Sandor found his throat tighten and he held back a scream of fury. He couldn't quite believe what he had seen. The little bird with another man. And _a fool? A fucking fat fool?_ Suddenly the kiss they shared seemed worthless and cold. The glowing memory of it that he had held so dear had turned sour in his mouth. _How many other lips has that little mouth kissed._ The woman that he thought she was seemed to shatter into a million pieces, in a cloud of lies and deceit. _She's a fucking whore. I should have known better. Like she would have wanted a monster like me in the first place. She's a fucking whore!_  He felt himself go into a rage, one he could not control.

 _Ser_ Dontos waddled up the path tripping at the stone as he went, pulling from a wineskin that sat on his hip. Sandor wanted nothing more than to run up straight behind him and slice the mans throat from ear to ear. He couldn't believe she had let him put his hands on her. His fat sweaty hands. He couldn't bare the thought of anyone touching her, let alone that bloody fool. As soon as he was gone from sight Sandor exploded into frenzy of violence and anger. With a great roar he lunged his fist into the tree, over and over until the orange sap of the weir wood seeped out all over his gauntlet. He couldn't believe the depths that the little bird had sunken to. He thought that the kiss they shared had been more than a drunken grope in passing.

 _The fucking fool?_ It was a joke, an embarrassment. He hated her for making him feel this way, for letting him believe that she may have actually had some genuine feelings for him. _She's led me on. Turned me into a fucking fool as well._ For a moment he found himself wandering whether he should tell the king of her little meeting with Ser Dontos, yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew it would mean her certain death, and that was something he just couldn't bare to think about, even if he hated her for making him feel this way. He pulled out his sword and slashed at the trees around him as he stormed back towards the castle, growling like a rabid dog. Yet with every stroke he only seemed to grow tired and restless, and found himself falling on to his knees exhausted, with tears in his eyes. 


	7. The Lion meets the Rose.

The gift had seemed innocent enough, yet every time Sansa looked at it it made her tummy tighten into a knot. It was a beautiful necklace, though it needed some polishing to be sure. The gems were a deep purple, stones that Sansa had never seen before. _It will go well with my new gown._ She thought, imagining the lilac satin that the dressmaker fitted for her that morning. Sansa wandered what Ser Dontos' mother looked like, and whether she had worn it often. The Hollard name was not a well known one, Sansa struggled to remember the sigil, though she thought its colours may have been red and pink.

She rolled the gemstones between her fingers remembering their first meeting. She must have read the letter that appeared underneath her pillow a hundred times, she knew every tiny ink splotch and each curve of a letter by memory now. _Come to the Godswood, if you want to go home._ The first one read. The note was unsigned, unsealed and the hand was childlike and unfamiliar. For a time, she was foolish enough to think it was written by the Hound. The thought made her feel silly now. _Sandor Clegane, writing me love notes and leaving them under my pillow._  She blushed. _If only._ She blushed even more. Sansa let herself fall back onto the feather bed with the note of parchment scrunched tightly to her chest.

"I thought you would never come." She remembered a voice saying from the shadows. 

She was so scared, aimlessly wandering around the Godswood in the middle of the night. _What am I doing?_ She asked herself. Every animal call or rustle in the bushes made her jump out of her skin. It was cold and her hot breath was misting in the darkness in front of her. She tripped over a rock as she neared the edge of the wood, she could her the waves crashing against the shore in front of her. It was hard to see with the heavy hooded cloak pulled down over her face, but she was terrified she would be seen. Sansa had rolled up some old blankets under her silk sheets, so if her handmaidens were to check on her they would just have thought she was sleeping. As she reached the bottom of the Godswood, for a moment she thought she was too late. It had taken her the best of two hours until she sought the courage to leave her tower and slip out into the night. In truth, the only reason she had was because she had convinced herself Sandor Clegane would be waiting for her, ready to whisk her away and take her off into the night. _Im so stupid._ When Sansa saw Ser Dontos in his tattered motley, her heart sunk right down into her belly.  The fools blotchy cheeks and crooked teeth curved into a smile, but Sansa almost wanted to let out a cry. He had seemed just as nervous as Sansa was on their first meeting though, which calmed her somewhat. There was a terrible moment when she realised she was all alone in the woods, with a man and no one knew where she was. Fear bubbled up her throat. But he bowed, and his hands were clammy and cold when he reached out to touch her. He kissed the back of her hand clumsily before he introduced himself. She had almost forgotten about the Knight turned fool, though she _had_ remembered how Sandor Clegane had lied for her on that same day. 

"You saved me, not only from Joffery but from myself." Ser Dontos said, his cowl pulled up over his chubby cheeks and thick neck. 

She didn't trust him to begin with. She had wanted Sandor. Not…this. Sansa demanded to know who had sent him, waiting for it all to turn into some cruel jape that would end up in her being beaten by Joffery. But Ser Dontos spoke genuinely, and Sansa could not believe the man smart enough to play throne games. He spoke to her so sweetly, and called her his 'Jonquil'. As he explained further, it seemed she simply had herself an admirer, one that wants to repay a kindness she once gave to him. The sentiment a sweet one, though Sansa had prayed and prayed for a knight to come and save her, not a fool. _I ask for a knight and end up with a fool. What have I done to anger the Gods so?_ She almost chuckled _._ Ser Dontos ushered her to sit on the rock underneath the great white weir wood tree and spoke ever so softly. First he told her of her beauty and how kind she was of heart, then told her how he had shamed his family and how he only wanted to put right all the wrong that he had done.

"My house was once a great one. On the rise! But all of that is over now, thanks to a few fat drunks like me." He said with sad eyes. 

She remembered how he nervously licked his lips. 

The longer he spoke, Sansa found herself feeling sorry for the man that sat before her, and could not but help feel endearment for him too. 

 _"_ So please, your grace, trust me. I only wish to help you. _"_ His cheeks wobbled as he spoke.  

"My life is a poor thing, but it is _yours_." He slumped down onto one knee. "I vow, with your fathers Gods as witness that I shall send you home."

Sansa opened her eyes and was back in her safe little bird cage within the red keep. _He promises me he will help me leave, but how? He's just a fool. And what will he expect if we were to leave. What if he asks to marry me as payment, I cannot._ But he _swore. He swore a solemn oath to take me home, before the Gods! He might not be a knight, but the world is not what it seems. Knights aren't chivalrous and charming, friends aren't really your friends. Nothing is as it seems. Maybe this fool is my knight of a different kind. I'll let him free me and i'll run away. No one will never find me._   

Her head was swimming. She was being stupid. It was all too good to be true.

Shae noisily banged on the door, and entered just after Sansa had time to stuff the parchment down her bodice. 

"Lady Margaery has arrived your grace, will you be changing ready to sup with her this evening?"

Sansa nodded, her cheeks flushed with the apprehension of being caught with the letters. 

"Have you seen her?" Sansa asked Shae and her other handmaiden, as they removed her shift dress. 

"No your grace, though I heard the guards saying she is very beautiful."

Sansa was excited to meet Lady Margaery, it was not often she got to sup with new faces, and women of the same age. Lady Sybel, Lady Tander and the others were all much older, and would only tell her what she wanted to hear. Their daughters were too young, and Lady Tanders daughter, simple of mind. They only spoke of court gossip, men they fantasied about or other meaningless dribble that Sansa found tedious to listen to.

While Sansa was dressing, Ser Balon came to tell her officially that she had been summoned for the supper with the Tyrells, though the King wished to see her afterwards. She knew it would be coming, Joffery had only asked her to visit his chambers once that week. Every time she visited him now he seemed less interested in her, and told her to leave as quickly as he could. It was a blessing in Sansa's eyes, the less time spent with him the better, though it seemed to her that he was purely doing his duty now, and had no love left for her at all. _Thats if he ever had any love for me._  The last time she shared his bed he had been rough with her, pulling her around like she was a rag doll for him to play with. Her arms were bruised a purple green all along the top, and he had bitten her neck until it turned a blood red. _I'll have to wear a long sleeved gown._ Sansa thought, not wanting Lady Margaery to think her clumsy. 

Everyone was already seated in the hall by the time Sansa was met with Jofferys arm outside the doors. Ser Jaime Lannister followed the King, in his beautiful golden and white cuirass. Sandor Clegane stood ominously behind him, though his eyes never met her own. She knew he would never look at her, though she wished for it all the same. The kiss they had shared still played on her mind, especially late at night when she lay awake in bed. Now that Lady Margaery had arrived, Ser Meryn would be her and Tommens shield, which meant the Hound would be Sansa's. It was an idea she couldn't quite decide wether she liked or not, given the moments that they had shared together. He had seemed very distant over the previous days, and it saddened her greatly. _He must regret kissing me._  

"I've gotten you a pet, sweetling." Joffery said with a smirk, pointing a finger at Sandor Clegane. 

"He barks and has a terrible bite, you might want to keep him on a leash."

Joffery extended his arm of blue velvet and led her into the hall, leaving the Kingsguard to stand guard. As she entered her eyes met Margerys instantly. Her face really was quite striking. The Tyrell girl wore a splendid green dress with a cloak of flowers that bowed from her petite shoulders. Her hair was long and ashy brown, she blinked with chestnut coloured doe eyes, and her face was heart shaped and beautiful. Her mother and grandmother stood close behind her, faces that Sansa could remember meeting on her and Jofferys wedding day. As Sansa and Joffery approached, Margaery done an exaggerated curtsey before smiling shyly at them both.   

"You do me a great honour your grace. I have been so excited to meet you." Her voice was soft and warm, and genuine at that.  

"I have looked forward to our supper. It is so good to finally meet you at last." Sansa said, kissing her dutifully on the cheek. 

"The honour is mine, my lady." Joffery said, kissing the girls hand. 

Sansa flashed him a side ways glance, his eyes were full of hunger. Wide and crazed. For a second, it almost made her jealous. 

A fire was crackling in the hearth, and sweet smelling rushes had been scattered on the floor beneath them. A dozen or more people took their seats around the long trestle table after Joffery and Sansa took their own. The Lannisters sat along one side, with the Tyrells on the other. Lord Tywin, Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion, Ser Kevan, his lady wife Dorna, Tommen and Sansa took seat at one side, with Joffery at the head of the table. Along the Tyrell side sat Margaery, Ser Loras, Lady Olenna, Lady Alerie, Lord Mace Tyrell, Ser Willas, Ser Garlan and a petite lady that Sansa guessed was his wife, Lady Leonette.

At once each Lord and Lady introduced themselves to the king and to each other, beaming with compliments and smiles. All except Margaerys grandmother, Lady Olenna. An elderly woman who smelled strongly of rose water, and had wizened white hair. The 'Queen of thorns', they called her, yet Sansa thought she just looked like a sweet little old lady. 

"Kiss me, child." She said, offering a wrinkly hand. She paid no mind to compliments or curtsey, only washed her eyes over the Lannister family in front of her.

"Lets have a look at the boy then." She said, placing brown spotted hands on Tommens soft cheeks. 

"Grandmother!" Margaery exclaimed, with a shy smile. 

Everyone took their seats as the serving girls came rushing over with wine and mead. Sansa took the moment to look around the table at the family that would soon be joining her own. Margaery seemed lovely, and beautiful too. Ser Loras looked equally as handsome, it made her heart beat a little quicker just looking at him. He had swapped his white cloak of the Kingsguard for a silver and grey doublet, that ruffled at the collar. Lady Alerie, Margaerys mother, was nothing short of exquisite. She had a long silvery braid that was bound and jewelled with rings and gemstones, and eyes that were the brightest blue. Lord Mace Tyrell looked cheerful, his big chubby cheeks pushed upwards with a grin. Sansa found herself thinking that at one time he would have been handsome. Ser Willas was comely too, with a strong jaw line and curly brown hair, though he walked with a cane. Sansa had heard that Ser Willas suffered a crippling injury to his leg in his adolescent years from a tournament accident, while he was facing Oberyn Martell in a joust. To his right sat Lady Leonette, a dainty women with shining straw coloured hair and a slightly hooked nose. Then as her eyes wondered to the last man on the table her heart skipped a little more in her chest. Ser Garlan looked much like his younger brother Ser Loras, though a little taller and broader of shoulder. He had a well kept brown beard that seemed to give him a dashing look, one that Sansa would almost call regal.  _They are all so beautiful._ She thought, suddenly conscious of how she had done her hair and what dress she had chosen. 

"It is so good to finally meet you my Lord. I am so excited for our wedding. I hope I am not a disappointment to you." Margeary told Tommen, who had been dressed in a cream and gold doublet that was slashed with velvet at the front. It seemed to Sansa that he had been dressed to look much older, though he still looked no older than ten. 

He shook his head and grinned, ruffling the golden hairs on his head. 

"I am excited for the wedding too. Uncle Tyrion says it won't be long. And Mother says they'll be singers and dancers. Do you like singing?"

"Yes. Very much my Lord. I can sing you a song one day, if it please you." She smiled shyly again. 

When Sansa caught sight of Cersei's eyes burning holes into Margeary she almost let out a giggle. _She doesn't like this arrangement at all._ She realised.

"I am so happy that we will be joining our houses your grace. " Mace Tyrell said, raising a goblet into the air. 

"As am I." Tywin replied, as Joffery looked as though he had no intention too. 

"So it is agreed the wedding will take place in two weeks time? That should be long enough to settle the last few arrangements." Lord Tywin said over his goblet. 

"Yes, it should be more than enough time." Cersei said, with a smile so false it might have cracked. 

"Its settled then." Mace Tyrell said warmly. 

"Are you going to bring the food? Or do you mean to starve us to death?" Lady Olenna snapped at a petrified looking serving girl. 

Joffery let out a bark of a laugh and spat his wine all over the table, his teeth stained red from the liquid. 

"Will there be food at our wedding? Can we have lamprey pie? And leg of lamb?" Little Tommen said with a grin.

"You can have whatever you want little love." Cersei replied with a hand on his arm. 

Sansa found herself hoping that Margaery and Tommens wedding would be very different from her own, though she imagined it would be. It was more of a formality, being Tommen was so young. The bedding wouldn't happen for a couple more years at least. Though it would mean that Margaery would live with them in the Red Keep, an idea that quite excited Sansa. 

"You must all take a walk in the gardens with me while you are here. They are most beautiful." Sansa said, as the first course of trout baked in clay was served. 

"You've seen them gardens a hundred times. Don't pretend you still enjoy them." Joffery sneered taking a gulp of wine. 

The ladies exchanged glances that made Sansa feel quite uncomfortable. The other men were sat closer at the other end of the table, and seemed to speak endlessly to one another. It was left to Sansa to engage in conversation with the other Ladys, though it meant Joffery as well. He was picking at his food, his expression bored and movements lazy. 

"I imagine it must be rather dull to be cooped up in here like a hen. Perhaps you would like to visit High Garden, if your grace permits it. Now that peace is restored and all is right with the world. The pleasure barges are quite spectacular the first time you ride them." Lady Olenna said picking at her food with her fingers. 

"I would like that very much my Lady." Sansa had always wanted to visit High garden, it sounded like such a magnificent place. Much nicer than Kings Landing. _I won't be here much longer though._ She thought again, that is if Ser Dontos sticks to his word.  _He said it won't be long now._

"Sansa doesn't leave without my say so." Joffery sniffed and everyones eyes turned down to the table.

A second course of white beans and bacon came out, along with a rich Dornish red wine to match. As Sansa brought it to her mouth she took a sniff, the smell reminded her of the Hound, and how his breath had smelt just before he kissed her. She cherished the thought for a moment, picturing his face in the shadows of the hall way. Her tummy flipped and she silently scolded herself. 

"Have you decided on your wedding gown Lady Margaery? We have a marvellous seamstresses here in the Keep." Sansa said softly, after clearing her throat. 

"How nice of you to ask your grace. I was thinking short sleeves of ivory samite and silver scroll work on the bodice. Though Mother prefers a more _demure_ style."

"A trail of satin roses, that follow behind a good 8 feet. With long pointed sleeves, like my own wedding gown." Lady Alerie said, her eyes going off into the distance as if to picture it. 

"A trail of roses, for a Tyrell. How original." Lady Olenna said thick with sarcasm.

"I think it sounds lovely grandmother." Margeary voiced, smiling warmly. 

Without a word of warning, Joffery let out an irritated sigh and slammed his cup down onto the table in annoyance.

"DOG!" He shouted towards the door. He slurred his words a little and Sansa realised he was starting to become drunk. 

"Your grace..." Cersei snapped, her eyes narrowed. A hint of a blush on her cheeks from embarrassment. 

Sandor Clegane came pacing over from the door, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. 

"Move my chair to the other end of the table. I have no business talking of wedding gowns." Joffery stood and turned to Lady Margeary with a bow.

"Excuse me, my ladies." He said as an after thought, while Sandor Clegane dragged the large oak chair across to the other side of the room. It occurred to Sansa that Lord Tywin may have seated Joffery there for a reason, given the look on his face. _He doesn't want him to embarrass him while they discuss important arrangements._ Sansa thought, as Joff took his seat next to his grand father. 

"Very good dog."

Sansa watched him leave the room in a flash of white cloak, she realised her mouth was open so she filled it with a mouthful of bacon.

The rest of the evening went much better than the start, and Sansa found herself quite liking the new ladies in her company. The conversation was pleasant and relaxed, apart from the odd jape and sarcastic comment from Lady Olenna, but Sansa grew to quite like it. It was a breath of fresh air for someone to speak so boldly. However Sansa did find herself feeling slightly envious of Lady Margery. Not only for her beauty, or that she was surrounded by her loving family. But because she was to marry Tommen, one of the sweetest boys she had ever met. He might be younger, soft and chubby, but Tommen would never hurt her. He would never dream of doing the things Joffery had done to her. Margery might not become Queen like Sansa had, but her life as a lady would be how it should be. How Sansa had always dreamt her own would be.

As the fruit tarts and sweet biscuits were served, Ser Dontos came in on a wooden horse singing 'The bear and the Maiden fair' in a drunken slur. The Tyrells fool 'Butterbumps' followed shortly, shoving an orange into his mouth and slapping his cheeks, to which the ladies giggled and laughed. _My so called Florian_ , Sansa thought, cringing at the plump man making a complete fool of himself. She had always loved that song, it was one of her favourites, yet the reality of a fool for a knight wore thin in real life. Sansa reached up to her neck to touch the necklace he had given her and sighed. 

"Such a beautiful necklace, my love. You should wear it for the wedding, no doubt!" Lady Olenna said over the noise of the fools song. 

"Thank you, my lady. I will."

"Yes. You will." She said firmly, resting a wrinkled hand on her own.

 

 

**SANDOR**

_I could just draw my sword and cut him down right here in the hallway. No fucker would miss him._ Sandor Clegane thought as he watched the two fools come along the hall and enter the feast. _I'd be doing him a favour, sorry fucking excuse for a man that is_. He eyed him with a sneer. _Why would the little bird want him?_ He couldn't get his head around it. He was stumbling along, covered in food and drink all down his tattered motley tunic. 

His anger had turned sour over the previous days, he was fed up of thinking about it. He had turned to wine, of course. what else was he supposed to do? He had drank so much the night he caught her, he woke up in the stables with Stranger by his side. _She's just a pretty face and a pair of teats._ He told himself as he sipped his ale in the tavern the night before. _Maybe she'll open her legs easier for me now. She wants to act like a whore, i'll treat her like one. All women are bloody whores._ For a time he thought he had overcome it, that it didn't matter anymore, he didn't care. Yet as soon as he saw her again his heart seemed to shatter in his chest like a blade through a piece of glass. 

Joffery called him in once more, though this time he sounded more bored than angry.The first time he entered the hall he had caused quite a stir, he was in no hurry to go in there again. The Margeary girl who was to marry the younger boy was a pretty one. Yet he found himself comparing her to the little bird almost immediately.The other Tyrells all looked as green as summer boys though, Sandor thought. _Fucking flower knights._ One of them was a cripple, and the other loved himself more than his lady wife by the look of it. Who Sandor guessed was the Lord of the family was fat and sweating, his cheeks sagging down to his chin as he was stuffing it with beans. His eyes rose to meet Sandor's, and terror filled them both. Old men still scared like little boys. Just at the sight of him. _I bet he's never seen a fight in his life._ He felt the other eyes in the room latch onto him too, though he kept his stare straight towards the King.

"Oh my!" A women's voice shrieked behind him.

 _You like this face?_ He felt like barking, but when he turned he saw nothing but a little old lady smiling up at him. 

"You are quite spectacular aren't you." She said, eyeing him up like a piece of meat.

 _Looks like Im still to answer to the boy. Not just the little bird._ After he had caught Sansa meeting with the fool he had asked Joff to not guard the girl when the Tyrells arrived. After a few skins he had told the boy "Im no fucking septa or hand maiden. I've been your sworn shield since you were a boy." Though Joff had still refused. Sandor wanted no more to do with her and her wanton ways. _She's made me soft. Soft men get bloody killed. And I am not being killed._ As far as he was concerned the further away she stayed the better. His blood seemed to boil even when he caught sight of her walking down the halls or standing in court.  _Seven hells, stop fucking thinking about her. She's some bloody sorcerous. Getting under my skin and following me wherever I go._ Joff wouldn't fucking listen. The boy is as stubborn as a mule and the thought of Sandor frightening her was an idea too sweet for him to refuse. 

"If it bores you, terrorise her. Im sure you of all people can manage that, dog. Mother says fear is stronger than love. Besides, its only for a short while. Mother says we are not to trust all these new faces in the keep. We need personal guards, at all times." The boy King had told him. 

This was something Sandor felt the crazy wench was right about, there was an uneasiness in the air. Lord Tywin was struggling to control the boy King, and it was said Stannis's numbers were growing day by day. Titles and faces were shifting and changing, all these new puffed up Lords were jumping at a chance to kiss joffery's arse. It was all feeling very uncertain. It was clear this new joining of houses was to strengthen the crown and put an end to Stannis for good. Whether it would work or not was another thing all together. 

Ser Meryn gave him a sour look and rolled his sagging eyes. _Fucking toad._ Again he walked through the room, hit by the warmth of the fire and the smell of roasted meats. The feast had been going for some hours and it looked as though Joff was well and truly drunk. The candles on the table were melted down to stumps, so far that it pooled down onto the table. He caught sight of the little bird, her pale skin glowing brightly even in the dim light of the hall. Tommen had fallen asleep at the table, his head propped up with his hands. The nan came in to usher him out, and Sandor caught a flash of the Tyrell girls smile. 

"Escort Sansa back to my chambers. Have her wait for me there while I show Ser Garlan my crossbow."

Sandor gave a nod. 

"It has been a pleasure to meet you all, truly. I bid you good night." She said sweetly, getting to her feet. _She sings them songs so bloody well now._ He thought bitterly. _All of them lies._

Cersei, Tywin, Jaime and Tyrion all left the hall shortly after they did, with some of the Kingsguard in tow. Sandor tried to hear their conversation behind them, but they spoke in no more than a whisper. The little bird walked quickly, lengthening the distance between them and it made it hard for him to lag and listen in. 

"Why you in such a fucking hurry." 

 _She can't wait to get into his fucking bed._ He kept picturing seeing her there, standing in the Godswood with that fools hand on her bloody arm. He thought about confronting her, but every time he opened his mouth the words seemed to get stuck in his throat.  _Fuck I need some wine._ He filled the silence between them with his thoughts, thinking about how he would spend his night after finishing the watch. It didn't make much use, she kept humming quietly and breaking them. 

"I..I'm not in any rush. Im sorry." She said softly, slowing her pace to a stroll. 

As they crossed the yard she looked up towards the sky. The moon seemed to glisten in her eyes as she looked up in wonder. She took a deep breath and Sandor noticed her breasts move tight in her dress as she inhaled. He couldn't keep his bloody eyes off her, no matter what she's been doing with that drunken fool. 

"What you bloody looking at girl?" He rasped, pushing the small of her back along the path. 

"The sky. Its beautiful." She sighed, staring up at the stars.

"Keep walking." He barked, though she seemed to just ignore him.

"You hear me girl?"

Sansa stopped and turned to him, with those big tully eyes. "Are you angry with me?" 

"Keep walking."

"But…"

"Keep fucking walking."

She turned to look at him but he pushed her forward again.

"Do I need to beat it into you?"

There was silence for a moment and she obeyed, moving forward at a tiny pace.

"Whatever I have done to anger you…Im sorry."

Sandor Clegane had heard enough Sorry's from the little bird. All he wanted at the moment was the fine Dornish red wine he had kept in the kitchen, and maybe the young little whore in Chattayas with the big blue eyes. 

"If any more words come pouring out of your mouth I'll put my blade through it."

That shut her up. He started walking faster, his knuckles white from the grip on his sword. He escorted the little bird through Maegors Holdfast and up the stairs towards the boys room. He kept thinking of the fool. He could hear his mocking voice in his head. _She wants me. She doesn't want you._ He was saying over and over. Before he knew it, it had turned him into a rage. The longer he spent in her presence the angrier he became. He had spent so long trying to protect her, to show her how dangerous this place really is, how important she is, and how it can all change so suddenly. Sandor was finally starting to believe that she was getting it, that she understood its not all princes and castles and songs. Then she risks it all by doing something so fucking stupid. His heart started pounding. He hated how he made her feel.  _The boy wants me to scare her. I'll fucking scare her._  As they reached the top of the tower he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into Joffs room. _She thinks she can play games with me. I'll show her._   _Stupid little bird._

She looked up at him startled, eyes wide and shining blue. Her mouth made a little 'o' shape as she caught her breath. _She is so fucking beautiful._  But he was so angry with her he wanted to beat her bloody. How had a stupid little girl fooled him into thinking she might actually want him. A monster like him. He didn't want anyone else to have her. He wanted her. Him and no one else. _She's mine._ He couldn't bare her loving any other man. He told himself to fuck her, to take her right there and then. _Everyone else has bloody had her, why can't I?_  She reached out to touch him, her dainty fingers brushing the back of his hand. _Just bloody take her, right in the King's bed. Grab her and push her down on her back._ She _wouldn't fight it._ Sandors teeth were gritted tightly shut and he thought he felt his mouth twitch. His eyes washed over her body and his cock grew hard. Her breath was erratic. He hated her and loved her all at the same time. Love? The word shocked him and he pushed her away.

"Sandor…" She sighed, looking up at him with big eyes, her lips pouting. He lent into her. She blinked so innocently.  _Fuck. I can't._  It took all of his will not to grab her again and kiss her but he slammed the door shut and paced back off down the hall without a single look back. His whole body was seething with anger and lust. These thoughts were consuming him, he was loosing sight of what is important. He had to stop this. He had too.

By the time he had made his way back to Joffery in the courtyard, he had calmed himself some what. _I'll be finished my watch soon. I'll go and get some wine. Maybe a nice roasted chicken. I'll fuck all the gold in my purse away._ Some of the guards were holding torches while Ser Willas and Ser Garlan shot arrows at a straw dummy set up against the wall. Joffery was still clutching a goblet of wine and chuckling to himself. It seemed the other Lord's looked rather bored.

"Well shot. We shall have to take a hunting trip. Show these other fools how it is done." 

"Yes your grace. I hear the game in the Kingswood is plentiful." The cripple said leaning onto his jewelled cain. _Surprised he can get himself onto a horse._ Sandor thought bitterly.

"The hour is late, see it that Ser Garlan and Ser Willas are escorted back to their chambers. I shall call for you tomorrow Ser's, to arrange the hunt." Joff tugged down his doublet. 

"As you wish, your grace. Good night." Ser Garlan nodded and bowed, too deeply in Sandors opinion. He looked as though he was trying to kiss his boots. 

"Is my lady waiting?" Joffery said with a sly smile. 

Sandor nodded. 

"Off with you then dog. Ser Balon take me back to my chambers."

Sandor turned on his heel and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The sooner he had a drink and forgot about the little bird the better. When he reached his chambers he slumped down onto the bed and snatched the wineskin from his table. His room was dark, just how he liked it. The only light coming from a covered sconce well away from his bed. He watched the light flicker from the flames behind and flinched. The walls in his chambers were bare, apart from the weapon rack that hung on the opposite wall and the Clegane sigil on his shield that sat above the empty hearth. The floor was covered with straw and debris, he had let no one in to spread rushes or sweep for several months. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the silence for a time, taking longer and longer pulls from the skin. The way he had sat meant his armour was cutting sharp against his back, though he made no move to change it. The Hound never took off his armour, not even when he visited the whore houses. He trusted no one, and knew better than to let his guard down, that was before he met the little bird. 

When he was starting to feel good and drunk Sandor unsheathed his sword. He found his whetstone and oilcloth in their niche and began to pull it along the blade. As he worked he thought of Clegane Keep, the home he had grown up in as a boy. He could still recall the sounds of the stead that surrounded the grounds, the smell of the smoke and sounds of other children playing. The taste of suckling pig and boiled beans filled his mouth again. He saw his father, the pathetic jape of a man that he was. Then his mother, though her face was blurred now, it had been so long since he had laid eyes on her. Sandor had her look, he remembered. She had his grey eyes and long black hair that went well down past her waist, though she always braided it into a plait. Sandor re-sheathed his sword and laid down the whetstone, his eyes heavy from the wine. He remembered playing in front of the fire as a boy, with the tiny wooden knight that belonged to Gregor. The memories were bitter sweet. He hated it there, he hated him, he hated his father almost as much as Gregor. _What sort of man is afraid of a bloody child._ He had lied to the others, his father had. Told them that Sandors bedding had caught fire. That hurt almost as much as the burns.  

He pushed himself up from the narrow straw bed and splashed his face with the water from his basin. _Enough of this._ He told himself, pushing back his hair. He filled his wineskin and made his way to Chattaya's, in the hope to relieve some pain, or maybe anger. As he left the castle Sandor passed a few other of the guards, yet none made a move to acknowledge him. Stranger snorted as he patted him, _its been too long since I rode him._ He thought, _I need to ride him more._  Sandor mounted the great black destrier and crossed the draw bridge, beginning the journey dow through the winding shit stained streets. Sandor hated the city, even more than he did the Red Keep. He pulled his snarling dogs helm from his saddle bag and pushed it down over his face, though it did not block out the smell. Soon he found himself in Fleebottom and kicked Stranger into a canter. Beggars and wealthy merchants scattered before him. 

"Fancy a tumble?" A haggard looking woman called from a window, her heavy breasts pushed against the window sill. 

Sandor passed a group of gold cloaks, with their full helms covering their faces. Though they seemed to pay him no mind, no one ever did. _Too scared._ He smiled. There was a woman screaming somewhere, and the sound of dogs growling. He turned again and the streets were getting narrower and narrower. _Fucking rats nest._ He thought. The stench of filth seemed almost as bad as it did in the summer sun, rivers of shit flowed openly along the narrow streets. He and stranger twisted around bends and alleys, until he reached the Street of Sisters. The road was much wider here, he passed a wagon and some children all huddled together poking at what looked like a dead cat. Some men were shouting and jeering ahead of him outside of a tavern, one curled up on the floor. Chattaya's was just around the corner. _Maybe i'll have a drink first_. He stopped stranger and the children ran away like scared mice. The night was cold and misty, so it made it hard for him to see.  

"Dance for us. C'mon. Or Farkes here will beat you bloody." One of the men in front shouted.

"I thought you were supposed to be funny ey?" Another said, booting him in the side. 

As Sandor approached he couldn't believe his eyes. The man on the floor was wearing motley, his hat covered with bells. _Its the fucking fool._ He was drunker than Sandor had gotten the night he caught them both together. Kneeling on the floor while men jeered at him and threw coppers at his feet. He was singing in a slur and covered in his own vomit. 

 _This is the man the little bird wants? She's the bloody fool, not him. She deserves so much fucking better._ He had a mind to leave him there on the floor, for the other men to beat and jest, yet he found himself striding over to them. _I'm not in the castle, I could slit his throat and no one would know any better. He'd join the rest of the bodies floating in the Blackwater rush_. As soon as the men spotted the Hound they retreated back into the tavern without a single word, leaving the shit covered joker in a ball in the gutter. Sandor swung down from his horse, patting stranger firmly as he did. 

"Mercy, Ser." The fool was mumbling between retches. "Please. Mercy."

"Im no fucking _Ser_." The Hound snarled from behind his dogs head helm. _I'm going to play with him._

He removed his greatsword from the long sheathe on his back, swinging it close to Ser Dontos' face. He kicked the fleshy man onto his back, and pressed the point of the blade into his cheek.

"Mercy. Please. Mercy!" He was crying. 

Sandor twisted the blade, and nicked the skin so that a stream of blood began to poor all down his face onto the floor. The fool let out a scream but Sandor silenced him with another kick to the ribs. The Hound grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, ripping the already tattered motley. He stunk of wine and stale vomit, and then he realised he had let go of his bladder just moments before. _Pathetic. I should do him a favour and end his worthless life right now._ Sandor wrapped his fingers tight around his neck and lifted him up off of his feet. He slammed him into the side of the tavern, while Ser Dontos struggled and kicked his legs. The Hound pressed his helm close to the fools fat face, peering at him through the narrow visor. 

"If you touch another hair on the little birds head I swear to the stranger I'll rip your fucking balls off and shove them down your throat." He growled. 

The fool was snivelling like a child, his hands held up over his head. 

"You fucking hear me, you fat cunt?" Sandor grabbed his greasy hair and yanked it back to see his blotchy face. 

"Please don't. Please…Who…who is t-the bird?" He cried, refusing to look Sandor in the eyes. 

"The little bird. The fucking Queen." Sandor paused for a moment, seemingly unable to say her name. "Sansa."

Ser Dontos' eyes filled with terror then proceed to nod vigorously, tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. 

"You understand me, fool?"

Ser Dontos nodded again, choking from the grip around his neck.

"Good."

Sandor dropped him carelessly, so he landed with a thump on the floor with a cry of pain. 

"Please don't hurt me. They…they made me do it. I didn't want too."

 _They?_ Sandor rolled him over onto his back again with a sharp kick. 

"Who are they?"

"I don't know, they'll kill me though I know it."

"I'll fucking kill you right now in the street and feed you your bowels boy. WHO?"

Sandors sword was pointed at his chest.

"I don't know…they told me to send her letters, to befriend her. To give her gifts."

"One last time fool. WHO?" He placed a heavy foot on his stomach. The fool spat out a chunk of blood. His eyes wide with fear.

"I don't know! People would come in the night, messengers. It was never the same person. They told me they would kill me if I didn't do it..."

Sandor was raging. _Someone is trying to hurt her. Why would they need to gain her trust, and why the fool?_ He wanted to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. But he needed to know more.

 _"_ Why? "

"I have to get her to trust me. Trust me enough to leave with me. Thats all they said. Please just let me go. Please!!" He had shit and blood all over his face, his eyes looked like two big shining moons.

"Leave where? When?" 

"I don't know, please Ser. I don't know. I…If I knew I'd tell you, please don't kill me….Ser"

 _Ser._ And with that The Hound kicked down hard and fast, he heard the bones crack. And the fool's whimpering was silenced. It was not enough. He wanted to see the life drain from his body. He wanted to feel the joy from it. He took his blade and slowly pierced it into his throat, taking great pleasure from watching the blood pour down his neck, out of his mouth and into a pool beneath his head. He drew back the blade to slice into him again hard in the chest, but he sensed people stirring behind him, he needed to go back to the castle. He needed to get back to the little bird. Sandor wiped the blood from his sword on the fools motley. He mounted stranger and galloped as fast as he could to the castle, splashing in the river of shit that winded down beside them. _I have to get back. I have to protect her._


	8. The Kings faith.

**Sandor**

 

“So it is settled then. Our new _friend_ , Mace Tyrell will become new master of Ships, while Ser Kevan will resume the last open position on the council, Master of Law.”

Cersei shuffled in her seat before she spoke.

 “You cannot seriously trust these Tyrell’s father, for one to sit amongst the council-“

“One must sit amongst the council to give them false importance. Besides, Mace Tyrell is not a man that will cause us any problems.” Lord Tywin cleared his throat.

“Summer has ended. Hard times are ahead. Stannis Baratheon’s ever-growing army and Baelon Greyjoy’s band of pirates are still alive and eager to take the Iron throne. We need as many _friends_ , as we can get.”

 The Hand of the King took a long deep sip from his goblet.

It was the second time Sandor Clegane had been forced to attend a small council meeting, though this was the first since Lord Tywin had returned. So far it had gone somewhat differently. When he first entered the small private audience chamber, his presence was questioned immediately. However King Joffery refused for his loyal dog to leave his side. _Boys scared. Wants me here to protect him._ The new meeting room was almost as dark and dingy as The Hounds chambers. Though it was much more grand, well it should have been. Large Myrish rugs covered the floors and colourful tapestries surrounded them, but there was so little light it made them hard to see. The group all sat around a huge ornate oak table, yet in the darkness it just looked as though it was gathering dust. Joffery was clearly unhappy with the change.

"May I ask why you have been holding the small council meetings in here?" 

"It is much closer to where I work. And It is not often that your Grace wishes too attend.."

"But if I were, I now have to climb all the stars in the tower of the hand to attend a meeting?" He was picking at his chair, nostrils flared.

Lord Tywin turned his head slowly towards the boy.

"We could arrange to have you carried."

The silence was so thick it made The Hound think of the moment just before battle. When everything goes still and eery, when the very blood in your veins seems to run cold for just a second. Joffery let out a bark of a laugh and everyone in the room seemed to have swallowed simultaneously.

 “What else do we have?” Lord Tywin contuined.

 “It seems the death of Robb Stark has not entirely put an end to the rebellion. There is news of people still baring his banners in the North, and many Northern lords are still refusing to bend the knee.” Ser Jamie announced.

 “Sansa must bare Joffery a son; to seal this royal marriage and finally tie the North and South together. It is high time that she should be with child. Grand Maester, you assured me the girl had flowered.”

 “Well..ugh… ugh.. yes. Perhaps I could brew…”

 “But I do not wish to put a child in her.” Joffery said plainly, swirling the wine in his cup.

 “You will. And you are.”

 “I will not. The girl bores me. I want a new wife. A more comely one.”

 Sandor’s chest tightened as the words left the boys mouth. 

 “You cannot break the vow of marriage without good reason your grace…” Pycelle stuttered, stroking his thin silver beard with his fingers.

 “Then we will give good reason.”

 “Joffery…” Cersei lent forward to place a laced hand on the Kings arm, but he stood abruptly.

 “I wish to marry Margery Tyrell.”

 Tyrion let out a snort of a laugh. Everyone shot eachother looks around the table. Cersei’s nostrils flared, but just before she opened her mouth Joffery spoke again.

 “Why should my fat little brother marry her? Joffery spat. “He’s a _child._ ”

  _More of a man than you. And the boy is barely nine._  Sandor thought silently.

"If I marry Margery I will have all of High garden, its money and army... Sansa is heir to nothing more than a freezing pile of rubble!"

 Jamie raised his eyebrows as if the boy had a point.

 “If your Grace has not forgotten, you are already married. Do you wish to anger the North into yet another War? Tommen will Marry Margery and you will put a child into Sansa.” Tywin replied calmly, his eyes narrowing.

 “I will not. I am The King and I will do as I please!” Joff slammed his hands down on the table and spat through gritted teeth.

 “I never wanted to marry her. Mother forced me too. I am the King and I should choose who I want to marry.” He added, pushing back his hair.

 Sandor saw the dwarf rubbing his temples in the corner of his eye.

 “A Good King must do many things he does not wish-”

 “I am going to marry Margery Tyrell.”

 Lord Tywin stood slowly, with each forefinger pressed down against the table.

 “You will not.”

 “I WILL. And I am. I AM THE KING! Not you Grandfather!” Joffery seethed slamming down his hands again, knocking various cups off of the table and onto the floor. It made Varys jump violently in his chair, he had to dab the wine from his powered cheek with his sleeve.

 “Any man who must say ‘I am the King’, is no true King. I’ll make sure you understand that one-day, once I’m done winning the war for you.”

Lord Tywin Lannister sat down once again.

 “My…My father won the real war! He took the Iron throne! Whilst you…you sat and hid in Casterly rock!” Joffery seemed to regret the words as soon as they left his lips. His eyes quickly darted to the floor and the room went still and silent.

 Cersei took a Sharpe inhale of breath. She eyed Lord Tywin intensely.

 “The King is tired.” He announced. “Hound, see him to his chambers.”

Sandor Clegane straightened his back and took a step towards the door. Though he hesitated for a moment. _I take orders from the boy. Not you, you old fool._  But the rattle of his armour in the silence shook the boy to startle. To Sandor's surprise the boy King obeyed, pushed back his chair and grabbed his mothers arm timidly. Like something a child would do after being told off for playing in dirt. His face turned the brightest shade of pink, and Cersei's gaze seemed to have become stuck to the hem of her dress. 

 “I…I am not tired..” Joff began, looking to his mother for support.

“Come my dear, there is a lot more just me and you can discuss together.” And with that, she dragged him from the meeting. Sandor followed behind, his hand on the hilt of his sword. A smile was growing behind his helm. Finally the boy was disciplined. _He's shitting his little silken pants. Fucking shame it was not given to him a long time ago._  

As he followed the pair out of the tower of the hand, he reflected on the meeting.  _This is not good for the little bird._ What will become of her if he does marry the Tyrell girl? He saw flashes of the dwarf walking her down the isle, her being passed around from Lannister to Lannister. _Would she have to leave the keep? Be married off to some other Lordling cunt?_ He could not protect her then. She is no longer safe here. Not that she even was in the first place. And who the fuck is it trying to sneak her away, do they already know of her fate? It filled him with dread. 

 

**Sansa**

 

The bright morning light beaming through her window was an assault on the deep sleep that had taken hold of her. It had been the early hours until she finally settled the night before, her dreams were full of blood and bitter sweet memories from Winterfell. Sansa had been tossing and turning beneath the covers for what seemed like an age. _I thought the nightmares had stopped._ The sheets beneath her felt damp with sweat. She remembered seeing little Rickon in the dream, playing with him by a hearth, but the flames consumed him. Just like Theon Greyjoy had him burned him alive.

The Queen woke alone in her bed, as she usually did. Not that this upset her. When she opened her eyes, she sighed. _Another day in this golden hell._ Shae and the other hand maidens pulled back the shutters and filled the room with more light. Sansa was handed lemon water and quickly ushered out of her bed robes. It was a routine she knew all too well. She would make water while they ran a lavender bath, then Shae would brush her hair gently. Whilst Sansa waited for it too cool, she sipped the lemon flavoured liquid delicately, sometimes nibbling on the fruit that was laid out each morning. She could not eat this morning. Her tummy felt tight and uneasy. After bathing she would be dressed, styled, sprayed and powered until someone came to call upon her door. This morning that someone was Sandor Clegane. It had been him more often that not of late. She knew it was him from the way that he knocked. Always two sturdy bangs. Quite slowly. A second apart. Followed by the door opening almost immediately. It always sent a flutter through her chest. 

"The little bird is being let out of her cage."

Sansa let out a confused sound that could only be described as groan.

"Where too?"

She turned to him, taken a back. He was wearing the bright white and gold cuirass of the Kingsguard. A long white cloak hung from his broad shoulders, right down onto the floor. It had been a time since Sansa had seen him in anything other than his old grey armour. _He looks rather handsome... If a little odd._ Though Sandor looked down uncomfortably at it, as if to let her know he had no want in wearing it.   

"I am to escort you and the rest of the royal party to the Sept of Baelor, Kings command."

Something about Sandor's face made her feel uneasy.

"Why?"

"I do not know. _Your grace._ " He said it thick with sarcasm. "But the longer you keep him waiting, the worse it will go for you."

Had Joffery found out about her meetings with Ser Dontos? She had not heard for him in over a week. Perhaps he had been captured. _Please no._ He was her only chance of escape. He could not have found out about the Hound had he? _No he wouldn't have sent him to fetch me._ The last time the King had summoned her like this he had commanded Ser Meryn to beat her with the flat of his sword until her wounds weeped blood. 

"Remember your songs today, little bird. You may need to sing them."

As they reached the doors that lead out of the Red Keep Sansa felt a flutter of fear. It had been so long since she had seen the world outside the walls of the castle, even if it was just down into the city below. A large and very elaborate carved golden litter awaited her outside, big enough to hold her and shae. The body had been painted a beautiful silvery grey, just like her sigil. Though it had been covered in a thick golden vine which engulfed it. There were guards everywhere, and she suddenly realised that there were other litters in front too. She nervously smoothed her skirts. The cream and gold samite was itching against her chest. She looked out into the city, a sea of orange tiled roofs and sandstone walls. It was much larger than she remembered. But Sansa could already see the Sept jutting up out high above the rest. Suddenly an even larger litter began to move ahead, this - she supposed - was her loving _King._ It was not open like the others, the only way you could see was through tiny slots at the back. _He's going to be ever so stuffy in there._ She thought, _I hope he chokes._ As she stepped up into her own carriage, she noticed the crowd in the distance looking up at them all ominously. Sansa felt sorry for the all poor men having to carry them down the steps. _This must be terribly heavy._

"Your Grace!" A soft voice yelled behind.

Margery Tyrell came gliding down the steps towards her with a beaming smile. Her long wavey hair was flowing behind her in the sunlight.

"How do you fair? Im so excited too spend some time together, and to see more of the capital!" 

She looked beautiful. The dress she wore cut down all the way to her belly button, revealing a tiny mole just above it. It was a gorgeous emerald green colour with patterns and scroll work she had never seen before. It was very eye-catching. Sansa found herself wondering where it had come from and how much it must have cost. _I could never wear a dress like that_ , she thought. _Joffery would never allow it._ Wild flowers had also been weaved throughout her crown of braids, they looked much prettier than Sansa's traditional Capital head dress.

The girl from high garden grabbed her hand tightly. 

"I asked for us to share a litter, if you would like your Grace?"

"Erm.. yes of course." She said, settling in amongst the silk cushions.

"Do you know why we are going to the Sept?" Sansa asked.

"Don't you? I guessed perhaps a rehearsal for mine and Tommen's wedding? Maybe Your Grace has a surprise for you. How romantic!" 

The litter jolted unexpectedly and the two girls gasped and giggled. 

"Ser! Why are we going to the Sept?" Sansa called out to Ser Meryn who was riding close by.

"The King does not wish for your grace to know."

"But she is  _the Queen_. Her grace demands to know!" Margery was giggling flattening her dress.

_Not that that matters. Not that I am any more than a prisoner here._

"His Grace was certain you are not to know."

"How exciting!" Margery proclaimed. 

 _How terrifying._ Sansa thought biting her lip.

With that they started the decent into the city and it suddenly dawned on Sansa that it would be the first time they would see her as their Queen. It scared her a little and she found herself searching for Sandor. He was sat atop his great black destrier just behind them, both eyes fixed straight ahead. Moving at a snails pace the litter attracted quite a crowd, faces peered in from all angles to get a good look at the two ladies. Sansa smiled and waved, yet none were returned. They passed through a sea of ragged men and hungry women, breastfeeding a tide of sullen eyes. As they reached flee bottom Sansa pulled out a perfumed handkerchief for her and her companion, and they quickly held it to their nose, the smell was quite overpowering. 

They turned the narrow curving hook and began their climb up Aegon's High Hill. The crowd was thicker here, it seemed the word of their arrival had travelled. "Traitor!!" Someone yelled from deep within the crowd. " Bastard boy!" Screamed another. Sansa pulled the veil curtain down around the litter. As if it would somehow protect her. She peered out at all the dirty gaunt faces that were staring intently at her, motionless. Fly's ran all over their cheeks but they did not seem to notice. People were shouting in the distance but she could not make out the words. Margery shot her a worried look and they clasped their hands together. "Please your grace, we're starving!" She heard a woman cry, followed by a short sharp scream. The crowd was growing louder. Sansa had no idea the city was like this, the war of five Kings was almost over, she thought the people would be excited to see her. 

The tall dark shadow of the Hound on his great horse closed in to her side, she felt a flood of relief. 

"Why are they being so hostile? I have done nothing to them." She whispered to him.

"You don't think they hate you for hiding up there in your castle, with a full belly. All while they starve to death in the streets 'coz of a war you started?"

The sudden consciousness ate at her.

 The guards spread out, pushing the sea of people further back. They were almost there. She could smell the musky incense from the sept. _Thank the Gods!_

Margery whispered in her ear "Those poor souls." as they were led up and out of her litter.

She did not have much time to think as she was escorted out of the litter, though she could still feel the burn of a thousand hungry eyes staring at her from behind. Suddenly she found herself feeling very selfish, and very stupid. Sandor placed a heavy hand on the small of her back to usher her forward. Sansa craned her neck up at The Great Sept as she was hurried inside. It was truly magnificent. The enormous marble domed building had seven crystal towers, one for each of the seven. Past the entrance doors they faced the hall of lamps. Hundreds of suspended and coloured globes of glass hung above them. She wanted to stop and see them all in detail but she was being moved in so fast. The party was gathering in the sept-proper, leather boots and velvet shoes all shuffled along the marble floor. Margery was whisked away with them by her own guards from Highgarden. Ser Preston told her to wait behind, while the others entered. Soon she was on of the few people left. Fear was bubbling up in her stomach. _Whats going on..._

A golden gauntlet'd hand grabbed her wrist. 

'Come with me little bird."

She looked up at the scarred side of Sandor Clegane's face. 

"Don't look at me. Keep walking." He rasped, leading her towards the doors of the main hall.

"He wants to divorce you." He continued, his eyes fixed at the crowd ahead. 

Sansa gazed up at him confused at what she heard.  _Divorce me?_

"I said don't look at me." He snarled. They kept walking.

"But…The faith does not permit it."

"You think the boy cares."

As they entered the doors of the main sept a sea of silk and powered faces turned to watch her enter. She was careful not to trip on her dress. _My skin is no longer porcelain, it is steel._ She reminded herself. Joffery was intently staring at her, with a mad glimmer in his eye that shook her. The Hound left her side and she felt the courageousness leave her entire body. _I cannot be strong without him._ She found herself clutching her chest, where she had stuffed the handkerchief he gave her down the front of her bodice. It made her feel safe.

"My Lady." Joffery nodded through a curved smile. His lips were glistening, they looked like shiny worms.

"Thank you all for coming, truly." He held onto the front of his belt with an air of arrogance and placed a black leather boot up on the marble step beside him. It was clear he was addressing the rest of the room. Cersei stood forever at his side, though with a look of worry. Her hair was down and loose over her shoulders, which was a rarity. And it dawned on her that she wasn't wearing nearly as many jewels as she normally would for such a public event. _Somethings very wrong._ Shortly after, LordTywin marched into the room, dressed all in dark leathers, with a look of sheer anger. The King continued.

"I... Joffery Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, gather you all here today, in front of Gods and men, to bare witness as I annul my marriage to Sansa Stark."

The crowd behind her gasped in union. Fear took over her body making her knees lock into place as if I could not move. _Annul our marriage?_ It was as if all the prays she had ever whispered in the Gods wood had all been heard at once. Every breath of air that she took suddenly got harder. Sansa's hands started to tremble.

"Your grace, The faith of the Seven does not console marriage annulment's of any kind." Lord Tywin declared, his face hard as stone. "You cannot ask to change the faith-"

Joffery raised a hand to stop him. 

"I am the King. The King does not ask. He commands."

Sansa could feel the crowd of people gathered behind her shuffling with unease. 

"I have listened to your nonsense for too long Grandfather. Silence."

Joffery adjusted his beige doublet and gave a self satisfied grin.

"The stark girl and I have reared no children, besides, it would not be right nor proper for a King to have children with the daughter of a man beheaded for treason." He continued.

A figure stepped forward beside her, though Sansa's head seemed unable to move.

"Your grace, your small council thinks this may be unwise, if you would take time to reconsider…" Cersei pleaded, with a tremble in her voice unheard to Sansa before.

"I have taken some time to consider. I wish to set Sansa Stark aside. For the good of the realm."

Joffery signalled for Sansa to approach the alter of which they once got married, all those moons ago.

"If there is anyone who disagrees with this annulment, they should speak now." He warned, placing a hand on the hilt his sword. It suddenly occurred to Sansa that it was forbidden to bring weapons inside the great sept, though every guard had been armed to the teeth. The Septon's and Septa's surrounding them all looked at each other uncomfortably. _He can't._

Tywin Lannister stood and took a long deep breath. Though he chose not too speak. The Hand of the King paced off slowly through the sept and out of the door. His footsteps echoing throughout the room.

"High Septon." 

Sweat was trickling down the face of large fleshy man they called the High Septon. He was dressed in a lavish silk gown, with seven pointed stars stitched all over it. He carried a silk ribbon in one hand and the Seven pointed star clutched to his chest in the other. His hands were shaking violently. _He does not want to break the faith._  Sansa realised. _He's forcing him too_. Once their hands were bound together once more, the Septon began to real out their titles.

The High Septons voice shook..

"Let it be known that King Joffery of the houses Baratheon and Lannister, the first of his name, and the Lady Sansa of the house Stark, heir to Winterfell and the North, first of her name are no longer bound by faith, nor love. No longer share one flesh, one heart, one soul. That their marriage is annulled in front of the Seven…" The Septon broke off, his breath ragged.

"And cursed be he who questions it!" Joffery finished. Pulling the dagger from his belt much to the shock of the Steptas and Septons around them. With one quick cut he sliced through the ribbon to symbolise the end of their joining. She left the Great Sept of Baelor in a daze, as nothing more than Sansa Stark, and it felt nothing short of glorious. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. The Riot.

**_SANSA_ **

Outside, the bells were ringing. Slow and ominously. Sansa Stark hated the bells. They made her think of horror, _of death_. The Battle of Blackwater Bay, the swirling green smoke in the sky, the screams of hundreds of dying men outside her window. 

The thick wall of hot air hit her suddenly; the powerful stench that filled her nostrils made her feel a sudden nauseous. An even larger crowd had gathered around the sept of Baelor, eager to hear the news that was to come.Joffery pushed back his golden curls and smiled into the sea of sullen starving faces below. He too seemed oblivious to their torment and starving. Sansa thought back to all of the food that was wasted at their wedding, the 77 courses that were purely for show. The thought disturbed her. The King cleared his throat and began to give his speech surrounding the new royal divorce. A blush crept up the back of her neck. _This will not be taken kindly._  Margery was no longer at her side, she noted. But now stood well away, next to her fleshy father as he whispered in her ear _._ The High Septon stood close behind clinging onto the seven pointed star. His jaw was tightly clenched, sweat glistening on his forehead.

Tywin Lannister strode towards them, looming like some demon dressed in black velvet and leather boots. He was seemingly unapologetic to the interruption as the crowd whispered amongst each other. The Kings Grandfather placed a firm hand on Jofferys arm, urging him to step away from the dais that lead down into the city. Some short stern words were exchanged, though Joffery continued all the same. Even in the sticky heat, there was a certain chill in the air.

"As from this day forward.." Joffery went on, one hand clasped on the hilt of his obnoxiously jewelled sword. 

Unable to lift her gaze from the floor, sansa found herself studying the beautifully marbled tiles below her pearl encrusted feet. She dare not raise her head. She could feel the hundreds of eyes that were staring right at her, from head to toe. Im that moment, she felt as naked as her name day. _Look up_ , she urged herself. _I l cannot look ashamed_. It was unseemly, she knew, but she just couldn't seem to raise her chin. She could _feel_ how uneasy they all were. As Jofferys speech persisted, there were growing mutters and bickerings. Eventually someone pulled up enough courage to speak freely.

"You cannot change the faith, your grace! The Gods will punish us!"

"It has forever been a sin to cast aside your wife, your grace! It is not something that can be changed." Another well dressed man shouted. 

"The Seven will be angry. Angry with all of us." Several people cheered to that. 

The King raised his hand to dismiss them and spoke for a time, yet Sansa could not tell you a word that left his lips. She was consumed by her own thoughts. _I am no longer his. No longer his to torment. He can't hurt me anymore._  She studied his face.  _I am no longer married. I am no longer the Queen._ The realisation hit her. _I am no longer safe._  The king was throwing coppers now, as the crowd fought each other for the last piece. _He thinks himself so handsome._   _Yet he is so ugly inside_. The king joked with his mother as she clung on to his arm. Sansa found herself biting her lip, engulfed in her thoughts as she was ushered back into her draped litter. She could not take her eyes off her now ex-husband, who was struggling to mount his horse. Suddenly she felt shame. Hurt, like a woman not wanted by her husband. The thought was absurd. But she was upset, tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes.  _I bet they're all sniggering at me_ , Sansa thought. _Margery. The ladies at court._   _Though none dare do it to my face_. Her thoughts swam violently around in her head.  _I was to do my duty. To be a good wife, to give him a son. To be a Queen. A mother._ She parted her lips to speak or cry. She wasn't sure, but neither tear nor sound came out.Her eyes darted about, the crowd was somber on either side as they passed by. _What will become of me now? Where will I go? Will I marry another?_ She lent forward immediately to ask Joffery for some kind of reassurance, yet as she took a breath to speak, a pile of dung flew from the crowd and hit him flat on the cheek. The wet filth splattered all over his face and hair. It was hard to suppress the laughter.

"Who threw that?!" He screamed, after a number of shrieks and profanities.

"I demand to know who threw that! A hundred golden dragons to bring me his head!" 

He ran his fingers through his hair, made a furious face, then flung away a handful of dung.

"Bring me the man who threw that flith! I want him hung! I want him hung, drawn and quartered!" 

"He was up there!" Someone shouted, pointing.

The King wheeled his horse in a circle to survey the rooftops and open balconies above them. In the crowd people were pointing, shoving, cursing one another and the Royal family.

"Dog, bring him to me. I want to watch him lick it off before I cut off his head!"

Obedient, Sandor Clegane swung down from his saddle, but there was no way through the crawling wall of flesh. Sandor drew his sword, the men around him flinched and squirmed away. The crowd was crammed together tightly now, as the few mounted Kingsguard pushed them back against the wall. People began clawing at one another. Others were shouting "Feed us! Please your grace, please". Panic came over her.

"I want him! Dog, cut through them all, kill them all-" A pandaemonium of sounds drowned his last words. Suddenly they were engulfed by a thundering rage from all sides. The sea of sullen faces seemed to wash over them, like a fierce wave over the shore.

 "Sinner!" "Brother fucker!" "Oathbreaker!" they shouted. Stones were thrown from over head, knocking several people to the ground. The gold cloaks could no longer hold the line. A ragged man grasped his hand up at the Kings leg, but only for an instant. Ser Mandon's sword removed it from his arm. The blood sprayed all over his palfrey. "The gods will curse us all!" Someone was shouting. "Bitch, whore!" Another was screaming at the Queen regent. 

Jaime Lannister spurred to his sisters side immediately, his sword drawn, shining in the daylight. "Cersei" He he was saying, over and over. "Cersei, Cersei, Cersei" When he cut through the crowd he pulled her up upon his horse without hesitation. The blur from his sword left a red mist as it moved. She flew her arms around him desperately. "Whore!" They were shouting, though it was hard to make out over the screams."Brother fucker! Whore!" 

"Protect the King!" Ser Meryn bellowed.

Brown tattered rags seemed to engulf the colourful velvets and golden plate around her, like ants over a discarded piece of lemon cake.

"Back to the castle. Now" she heard Lord Tyrion shout from behind. It suddenly occurred to Sansa that Tywin Lannister was no longer up ahead in the column. But in fact, he was no where to be seen. Nor was little Tommen, nor Margery for that matter. Sansa frantically looked around for a face that she knew, but all that stared back at her were angry muddy faces she had never seen before. Her litter was being pushed from side to side, she clung onto the edge, praying not to fall. Rough hands were reaching in and pulling at her dress. _"_ I have no money!" She yelled. _Help._   _Someone help._ The Hound had vanished amongst the sea of men trampling those that had fallen already. His riderless black destrier was ploughing down those ahead as they shrieked in pain. Whether it had been a man, a woman or a child, Sansa could not have said. She could not recall leaving the litter either, though now she was on her hands and knees. Something had struck her face, she could feel the sting of the cut. As she reached up, she felt the blood trickle down her cheek. _Help me._ She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Sandors face _. Help me._ Someone was shouting her name, though she could not make out who.

There was a flash of a gold cloak and for a split second she thought she might have been saved. But the man fell to his knees, face first into the dirt. Sansa could not make out who it was. _Sandor?_  There was blood everywhere. _So much blood._ A hand was wrapped around her arm tightly, pulling her away from the column. The fingernails were digging into her arm. _Get off me. Please. Let me go._ Sansa shoved him as hard as she could and ran frantically away into the nearest alley.Another hand grabbed her, then another.Tears were rolling down her face. It had all happened so quickly, she could not remember crying.

"Its the fucking Queen" A man said, his hand yanking a fistful of her auburn hair. Her legs were no longer carrying her. Another man laughed. "Ever fucked a Queen?" 

She was being dragged now, more than two men, though she could not quite see their faces. One of them was cackling with laughter. She seemed to had lost a shoe.

"Please no, leave me be!" She screamed. One of them hit her hard around the face. 

Her head was searing in pain. It made her ears ring. She caught a glimpse of one mans eyes. They were brown, almost black. So full of loathing and pain. _He hates me._ She saw. _He hates me and I've never even met him._

They pushed her on her back, the beautiful dress shae had chosen, being ripped apart. Sansa flayed her legs, trying to kick. Her short ragged breaths drew gasps of the hot muggy air. The metallic taste of her own blood was on her tongue. She did not know where she was, nor how she got there. It smelt of horse dung, and it was very dark. _Help me._   _Please Gods, someone help me._   _Im going to die here._ She thought desperately. One of the men crawled on top of her, his thick bushy beard scratching against her neck. The sweat from his head left her cheek clammy. "Have you ever been fucked before, little girl?" he whispered, sending a fierce shiver down her spine. The faceless man struggled with his breeches, while another clawed at the inside of her thighs. Sansa tried with all her might to get up, but they were kneeling on her arms. _Its hopeless._ She gave one last scream for help but a calloused hand covered her mouth. She shut her eyes tight and tried to think of Winterfell. Of the distant haven she still somehow called home. But the clawing stopped abruptly, and the man on top of her collapsed, crushing down against her chest. When she opened her eyes he was being pulled back. There was a flash of sliver and his throat opened, gushing out a river of red. Sansa threw up her arms to cover her face. There was a clang of steel against stone, and the sound of a body dropping to the floor. "Please no-" someone was cut off into a choking gurgle. The sound of steel sliced through another man. Her knees were up to her chest. Footsteps were running away. "Arghh!" Another shouted, followed by another slump to the floor. Then silence. Beautiful, peaceful silence.

"Your safe now, little bird. Your safe." A voice rasped.

This time, when she opened her eyes, they were met with the Hounds. That intense stare through a blood smattered face, inches away from her own. He was so full of pain, she could see it as clear as day in his cloudy eyes. Sandor brushed aside the hair from her face, with that familiar and somehow gentle touch. _She was safe._

"Thankyou…Tha-" Was all she could muster. He touched her lips lightly with his hand. For a second she thought he was going to speak, but he took a short sharp breath and pulled her up over his shoulder. Sansa had never felt such a relief in all of her years. She was certain she was going to die, right there on the floor. The girl found herself flinging her arms around him tightly, just as Cersei had.  

 

**SANDOR**

 

The ground was glazed with guts.Men were snarling and squealing as the ground became slippery with gore.He was the butcher, and they were the meat. 

_Where is she? Where the fuck is she?_

Someone was clawing up his leg, groaning and crying. "Help me" he was saying. "Help me, please". Sandor wanted to feel sympathy, but he found none. A swift stroke of his sword finished him in a crimson haze. He continued forward, he could see the hulking black outline of stranger up ahead. He began to feel something almost like  _fear_.Though not that which took over his body when a burning flame brushed his skin - not like the fear from the fire - but a different kind, something new. Something much more terrifying. Images of men slicing through the little birds long neck flashed within in his mind. Dirty hands were all over her ivory skin, pulling her auburn hair.  _I must find her. I have to find her._ He called out for her over and over, but she did not reply, he only heard the wailing of dying men. He pushed forward, cutting through any poor soul still left close by. _Where fuck is she? I have to find her._

He cursed himself for leaving her side. He should have known better. He should have been more prepared. _Fucking Joffery, stupid little cunt!_  He spat onto the ground. _Citys fucking killing each other just so he can marry the next little twat with a fancy name._  His knuckles turned white as he clenched at the hilt of his sword. He had gone to mount stranger and head back up the column to shield her, but a gaunt faced man had come at him with a boulder, trying to smash it over his head. He lost count of how many he carved through after that. When he turned back the little bird was gone, along with her litter. _I am the fucking Queens guard. Im supposed to protect her._ He became increasingly desperate as he searched through the faces. _I've failed her._ There were shreds of Lannister banners entwined throughout the bodies. The streets had taken to look like a battlefield. Though instead of shields and banners, only bloodied rags remained. 

"Clegane! Pull Back! Pull back!" 

 _Where the fuck is she?_ He had to find her. He ignored the orders.  _She has to be ok, she has to be here._

"Pull back to the castle!!" Ser Boros Blount was shouting from further up the hill. There was not many to follow. Most of the so called _sers_ had tucked tail and ran as soon as blood was shed. All that remained was a handful of knights and city guards wielding swords and spiked clubs. The High Septon lay a mangled mess of silks and entrails beneath his feet. _Fool._  He muttered at his lifeless body. The smell of death hung in the air, it got Sandors blood pumping. He carried on, scanning the faces and bodies scattered amongst the floor. Most had fled now, ran away like rats down alley ways and into the holes they called homes. Sandor turned off around a corner, away from the groaning cries of pain. The air was thick with smoke down there, something had caught a blaze. A trail of smoke roared out of a gaping role in a roof up ahead. A girl was screaming nearby. shrieking like a bird with a broken wing.  _Little bird._ In a frenzy he followed her calls. The blind rage that took ahold of him tore through each of her attackers one by one. The anger consumed all that he was. He murdered them all, each more more brutally than the next. When the fighting was done. He found her, laying in a ball, shaking. A mass of auburn hair over her face. He knelt down next to her. Her breathing was ragged, but she was breathing. And her eyes were open, though wide with fear.

Laying there half naked, beaten and bloodied, covered in filth; Sandor Clegane could honestly say that she had never looked so beautiful. The relief coursed through his veins. 

"Are you hurt?"

She gazed up at him with tearful eyes, but shook her head.

He wanted to kiss and choke her all at the same time. _Stupid fucking girl. Nearly raped and killed. Never run off. Never leave me. Im not leaving your side again. Im sorry. Im sorry. Im sorry._ The words almost tumbled out of his mouth, but Sandor Clegane knew better. He said nothing; only tossed her limp little body over his shoulder and carried her back to Stranger. He slid his hands under her arms and lifted her up upon the destriers back, leaving his hands to linger there just a second longer than they needed too. He pulled out a handkerchief from inside his garb and dabbed at the blood that had began to trickle down her face. She cowered and held the cloth there herself instead.

"Your not safe here anymore, Little bird." 

"I never was. And I am never going to be" She looked down at him from the saddle, red curls blowing across her face, still unable to catch her breath.

 _Hmmph. The girls learning._  

"No, little bird. Not here you won't anyway."

He pulled himself up behind her, her body still shaking against him.

"Your alright now, little bird. Your alright." He said trying to calm her as best he could. 

"We need to get you to a Maester."

An arm stretched around his back, as she sat side saddle in front of him. Her head pressed against his chest. 

"You think Joffery will send me away?… Now... now I am no longer Queen."

Sandor spat out a laugh.

"You think he'd let his little play thing go so easily? Don't be stupid girl."

With a hard kick, Stranger burst into a gallop. She clung to him tightly as they rode.

As they grew closer to the castle, Sansa returned her gaze up towards him, with eyes as big as bloody plates.

"Don't take me back there, please. Lets go. Lets run away from here. Keep me safe, like u promised." 

The words that poured out of her sweet little mouth were so faint, yet Sandor heard every single fucking syllable.

"Please? I don't want to go back."

The words rang around inside his head like the  bells of the sept.

_Fuck._

"Clegane!!" Someone was shouting. "He has the Lady Sansa!"

There was a stir up ahead, he pulled his eyes away just for a second, but instantly the moment was gone. Castle guards were running towards them, cheering upon their return. When he looked back at her he saw only downcast eyelashes, her hands covering her face.  _Had she even fucking said it?_

He squeezed her side gently as they slowed to a trot. Silently cursing the heavy metal of his gauntleted hand, preventing the feel of the warmth of her skin beneath it. She relaxed her shoulders and lent back into him, the closeness making him tense. When they crossed the bridge of Maegors holdfast he placed her gently down onto the floor. Only now did he realise just how hurt and weak she was, slumping against the wall. There was chaos all around, injured guards and men were dotted around the courtyard. Swiftly, hand maidens and Septons flocked to the girls aid. 

"Take the little bird back to her cage." He said "See to that cut." 

Sandor turned, his mind still clouded from killing. _I need wine. And women._  He thought, stalking to the kitchens. A voice shouted and stopped him for a second.

"Well done Clegane!"

It was the half man. He snorted.

"I didn't do it for you."

 


	10. A Bloody promise.

**SANSA**

 

Her bruises were a multitude of different hues and colours, ones that should not be on ones skin. There was garish purple splotches, roughly the size of a fist, while others were smaller and more grayish, though just a painful. They were all over her, everywhere - _It was horrible_. And it wasn't just the bruises. There were cuts, too. Lines across her body, like someone or something had dug it's nails into her, tearing her flesh. Maybe they had, she still wasn't sure. Something had clawed away at her in any case, the gashes were sore to touch. It was awful, she could hardly bear to see herself in the looking glass. Sansa pulled a shawl over her shoulders in an attempt to cover the pain.  _I need to get some air._  Outside on her balcony, the sun was already setting. Threads of orange light lingered in the sky, mingling with the rolling clouds.  _Have I really been asleep so long?_   She looked out at the vast, intricate, labyrinth of streets and alleys that was Kings Landing. Smoke was rising up here and there, merging with the clouds as they reached the sky. _There is misery in the streets._  It seeped out of the cracks in the walls and up out of the sewers. She remembered how she had imagined the capital back when she was still in Winterfell. All marble buildings and towers, fountains with beautiful sculptures of mermaids, colourful flowers and exotic smells. She laughed at herself under her breath. _I was so stupid._ The city smelt of sewers, burning flesh and smoke. 

There was a chill in the air, deciding to return inside she lay on her featherbed and sighed. Sansa grimaced with pain. Her head was aching were it had been cut. _I am stronger than I know._ She thought, _My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel_. Sansa looked down at her hands and observed the dirt under her finger nails. The muck would just not seem to go. Memories of her pale hands on the ground trying to get away from the man between her legs brought tears to her eyes and her vision became blurry.

 _How many more tears could I possibly have?_   Sansa thought.  _How many times have I sat in this golden prison, and cried?_

Someone was at her door. Two slow sturdy knocks.

_The Hound._

Her heart fluttered.

Immediately he entered, alone. With a concerned look and furrowed brow. The hour was late. It was a rare sight to see Sandor Clegane without his armour. He donned a simple leather jerkin, with the three hounds of his house stitched across his chest. _For those who died in the summer grass._  Sansa warmly recalled the story of his grandfather. It made her smile. 

"How are you little bird?" He asked.

"I'll be fine." She said, suddenly feeling shy. "Thank you for asking."

He gruffed at that and took a sip from the wine skin he had tucked away in his pocket. 

It reminded her of what Master Pycelle had brought her earlier when she woke. Milk of the poppy. She glided across the room - as gracefully as she could - with all her wounds and bruises. She heard him shut the door as her back was turned, it made her heart beat a little faster. _We are alone_. As she lifted the vial from her bedside table a sting of pain pierced through her chest and shoulder. She made a 'psssh' noise as she sucked in air, bending over, almost dropping the glass to shatter on the floor. Suddenly he was behind her, a firm hand around her wrist, holding her. He ushered her down onto the bed, leading her back onto a pile of silk cushions and furs.

"Lay down little bird. You need to rest."

She muttered her apologies, her head swimming. He sat beside her, pulling at the soft woollen robe that covered her silk bed dress. Her head began to swim. 

"Let me see."

"Ser, Your've forgotten yourself." Her voiced trembled, embarrassed. She didn't want him to see her like this.  

He rolled his eyes.

"Fuck your Ser's girl. LET ME SEE!" 

He placed his hand just underneath her collar bone, the sudden skin on skin contact made her jolt.

"Come on...I won't hurt you little bird." He rasped softly.

And with that Sansa melted beneath him.

He reached up and gently pulled the robe off her shoulder, dropping it just enough to see the worst of her bruises. His fingers lightly traced over the marks, with a touch so gentle for such a large man. She watched his calloused fingers run over the paleness of her skin, her chest convulsing up and down as he did. On her neck, he dragged his fingers upwards slowly, until he reached the spot just behind her ear. Sansa looked at his lips and thought to kiss them. 

"I should have raped their fucking corpses!"

That threw her. _Why must he always be so vulgar?!_ She averted her gaze and found her distraction with the tiny vial still in her hand, nervously bringing it up to her lips.

"Piss on that girl. Drink your fill of this." He said, raising his wine skin, but she wrinkled her nose. 

"No, Thankyou."

"Fine. Suit yourself."

He took another pull. 

The closeness between them perpetuated, yet neither went to move away. 

"I'm sorry." He said shortly, furrowing his brow.

"What for?"

"For not.. protecting you. I swore I always would."

Some instinct told her to lift her hand and place it on his neck. His mouth twitched as she brushed her fingers against his skin. His eyes locked with hers and for the briefest moment they didn't seem so full of hate anymore. She couldn't tear her gaze away. They were like smouldering pits, grey but full of heat. The closeness between them felt so natural, and so comforting. More comfortable than any blanket or fur she had ever lay beneath. 

"But you _saved_ me! Those..those men were going to kill me or worse.."

"Yes, and they almost fucking did. I never should have left your side."

His voice was rough and angry.

"Sandor, I should be thanking you. You saved me. You were so brave."

"Brave?!" He laughed, pulling away from her. "A dog doesn't need courage to chase off rats."

The closeness was gone. She cursed herself for her words.

There was a long silence. Sansa knew there was so much in Sandors silence, so much he was unwilling to say. 

"Do you know what will happen to me now?" She finally whispered. Worrying what it might mean. Worrying that she might be sent away, without him.

The Hound shook his head.

"I know about your little plan." He gruffed suddenly. "The Fool. I put my sword through his throat."

Sansa was at a loss for words. 

"It was not him who wanted to help you, someone was paying him to write those letters."

She was confused.

"Who?"

"That I don't know, little bird. Not me."

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, silently urging him back. Her arms slipped underneath his and entwined around his back. _I don't want to be without him_ , she thought. _Please Gods, don't let me loose him too._ They stared at each other for a long moment before she rested her forehead against his. _Had he killed Ser Dontos for her? Was it jealously that spurred him to do it?_ Neither broke their stare. The closeness felt so good, warmth seemed to rush to every corner of her body.  And then, he kissed her, hard and slow. She could feel the faint burn of wine as his tongue rolled against hers and it seeped down her throat. Sandor took her head in both his hands and deepened their kiss. To Sansa, the world simply fell away. In that moment he was the only thing to her in the world that mattered. When they both eventually pulled apart, they took shaky, shallow breaths. They couldn't take their eyes off each other. His hands slid down her neck to feel the curvature of her breast but Sansa inhaled sharply in pain. For a moment she too forgot how much she was hurting.

"Im sorry." He muttered suddenly. Shifting sideways, looking back at her, his eyes glistening in the darkness.

She sat up and rested her face on his shoulder, running her fingers lightly across the leather. 

"I can't watch him hurt you any longer." He rasped. 

Sansa sighed, unable to speak.

They sat for a long moment in complete stillness. 

"I'm taking you away from this place. Before anyone else tries to do the same. "

He said it suddenly, his voice as rough as a sword against stone. The flame from her candle flickered, sending dancing shadows up and down the walls.

"I'm not _asking_ you this time either, girl."

He stood up, pulling down on his jerkin.

"But...Where?! How?" Her words became muddled. 

"Winterfell, could be.  Across the narrow sea..."

Sandor's eyes dropped to the ground, deep in thought.

"Watch it turn to shit here now. Mark my words girl. That doe eyed little whore's got her claws so far in Jofferys back, she'll rip him to shreds before long. The Tyrells think they can play with Cersei. It's the calm before the storm. We should leave. And now."

"Please…" She found herself saying, sitting up in her bed and clutching the silk to her chest. "There is nothing I want more..."

He shot her a hard look.

"It won't be some fucking fairy tale. You know that? Shitting in the woods and sleeping in the dirt. Thats what it will be. But its better for you than staying here. Fuck knows what they'll do with you now." He rubbed his hands over his face almost anxiously. 

“They'll be no hand maidens to comb your pretty hair." Sandor Clegane reached up and tugged it almost gently. She shot him up a glance, as mouth was curved into a smile.

"I need to go. One of those fucking handmaidens of yours will be back soon."

The Hound stepped back into the candlelight, but his expression was dark.

"Im going to free you from this cage little bird. And thats a bloody promise." 

With that he was gone. 

Sansa fell back onto her bed, the milk of the poppy swirling her thoughts. Her eyes grew heavy. Then when blackness came over her, it sent her to a deep dreamless sleep. 

 

**SANDOR**

 

The problem was his face. Everyman, from the beggars in flee bottom, to the Nightswatch on the wall had heard of the Kings dog. Sandor Clegane. The Hound. He had been given many different names over the years. Although, most men are too scared to look upon his scars, they all _know_ that he has them. It was not a trait that could be hidden easily. _A cloak and hood?_ He thought as he lay upon his bed, _maybe a fucking mask?_  But it was not only his name and face that worried him, but the stories that went with them. How many he had killed, tortured, beaten. The men, the women, the children; there was a lot of folk who would want him dead. And many a folk who were simply scared shitless of him. _Too scared shitless to help or listen.._ Standing a good two foot taller than any other man and having half his face burned like a juicy mutton chop, was not something they were going to forget easily. Most men would simply run a mile. No matter the money. Besides, no amount of gold Sandor had could shadow what the Lannisters could offer. If he gave 100 gold stags for a ship across the narrow sea, Tywin Lannister would give 500 just to be told which one was set to sail. There would be a hefty reward as well he supposed, once word spread across the city. Gold and a lordship for the man that brought back the Hound who stole the Queen. _For the dog that tucked tail and ran._  No doubt some fucking bard will write a song about it, he chuckled to himself. _She'll like that._

The whole of the seven Kingdoms will be searching for them.  _No one must know._ He decided, in the darkness of his chamber. _Not even her._ Most importantly he needed a distraction. __The Royal wedding._  _He could whisk her away at the feast while everyone was drunk, it might just be the best chance he had. _Thats it_ , he decided,  _I ready the saddle bags and I take her on Jofferys wedding night._

Sandor woke just before dawn, as he so often did. It was still and quiet, just how he liked it. He washed away the nights wine with water from his basin, then let open the shutter to glimpse an inch of burnt orange sky. A beam of light fell across his room, revealing a cockroach scuttle across the stone. He stood on it and smiled when he heard it crunch. His first thought was to visit the kitchens, and take some of the blood sausage he saw them stuffing the day before. Sandor took five with a chunk of bread and washed it down with a watery ale. He returned to the darkness of his room for a time, plotting on how he was going to take her. The silence helped him think.  _Its time I showed my face. Or half of it._  Donning his Kingsguard armour he met with the other men in the White Sword Tower. Duck-faced Lord Slynt sat at the table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, all but he in the room turned to look at him as he entered.

"No one told me we were meant to dress as a woman today Slynt." Sandor announced.

Jaimie Lannister muffled a laugh. 

Sandor continued to eye him, rubbing his beard.."Its been a while, be careful I might bend you over that table and fuck you with my sword."

"Your pork sword? Always suspected it of you Clegane." Janos Slynt spat back, his hand in a fist. 

The Hound grinned, running his tongue slowly across his teeth. 

_What a Cunt._

"Remember who isn't wearing their armour. I don't want to ruin that pretty little dress of yours when I slice off your cock."

Slynt rose to his feet and The Hound spat out a harsh laugh.

"You think your a hard man? Looking like that?!"

The men in the room laughed and stirred, though quickly silenced by The Kingslayer.

"Now, now. As much as I'd love to sit and watch you two idiots spit insults at each other all day, Im afraid we must arrange the shifts over the royal wedding before we attend court this morning. So, if I may..."

When they were done Sandor set off to collect the little bird from her chambers. _The meeting was as dull as shit_ , but very helpful to his cause. Jaime gave a simple overview of who was guarding who and when they were patrolling what, all of which luckily went his way. Seeing as Sandor obviously still refused his knighthood, he was still given the little bird as his primary duty, a role which suited him most. He was relieved in truth, it would make getting away that much easier. Most of the gold cloaks would be patrolling the city, from fear of another riot or peasants trying to storm the castle. The rest would be protecting Joffery and his new little Queen. This time the feast would be held inside the throne room, which would make it a great deal more crowded. That could could raise a problem, slipping away unnoticed might not be as easily done. As he climbed the serpentine stairs he pictured her laying in bed, a mass of auburn curls and pale soft skin. He knocked twice, slowly. The foreign hand maiden with the little black eyes pulled open the door. _Like a fucking shadow, that one. She might be a problem._

"The King wants you to attend court this morning. You are too come now."

Sansa met his eyes with a smile, dabbing some sweet smelling oil on her chest. The dress she wore clung to her body and he could not but help stare at how her breasts were pushed up together. Beneath all that steel of his armour, he felt his cock stir. 

"Yes, if it pleases his Grace. I need just a moment." 

Sandor waited outside the door, imagining having her every way he could. He lost himself in his thoughts and jolted at the door as it reopened. 

"Im ready." She said softly with a faint smile.

They walked side by side towards the great hall, his mind still wandering. The hand maidens from her room trailed closely behind.

"How is his Grace, this morning." 

"I haven't seen The King yet. Though I heard he's been spending a great deal of time with that Tyrell..girl"

_Playing with his crossbow and feeding his ego. Clever bitch. Watch Cersei murder her for it._

"Oh." Is all the little bird sighed, mouthing a word as if to say more but deciding against it. 

When they reached the hall they were met with Little finger, smoothing his long doublet. 

"Lady Sansa, radiant as ever." 

Sandor snarled as he watched his eyes flit over her body the same way his had moments before.

"Kind of you to say, Lord Baelish." 

"Might I speak to you, _alone_ for a moment. I have been meaning to come and visit you since I returned from the Vale." He said, curving his lips into a thin smile. "Before his Grace arrives."

Sansa gave a concerned look then a nod at The Hound, though he returned it with narrow eyes.

 _What the fuck does he want? Thought he was gone for good._ Sandor didn't let his eyes leave the couple as they spoke in hushed voices across the hall. He could not see the little birds face, only Baelish's. It was hard to read his expression, but the man was reeking of lies, then again he always had. They spoke for far too long and it began to raise his temper, there was nothing he had to say that was of any good. Before long they announced the Kings arrival and they quickly done their courtesies and she returned back to him, but his eyes lingered on her far too long, _he wants her._ He realised teeth bared like a rabid dog. _I'll break his fucking skull._

"Stay away from him." He grumbled under his breath, as he left the little bird to climb up to the gallery, with the Tyrell girl and the rest of the pretty little idiots.

He took a spot next to Ser Meryn between the King and the common people, ready to cut out anyones eyes that even dared look at him. He didn't have to wait long until he got his first taste of blood, a thief that was stealing bread for the orphanage. Sandor was ordered to cut off a hand while Ser Meryn held him down, but the boy was squirming about like a fish. 'No, please no! I'll do anything!' He screamed. _Last words all the fucking same._   _No, please, stop, mercy._  Bloody boring. Then finally when he managed to stay still, The Hound slammed down his sword and heard the steel hack through the bone he imagined was Baelish's neck. Sandor's fun was soon over when Lord Tywin entered the hall, bringing an invisible cloud of sobriety. The rest of the court took a much less bloody toll, and much less of Sandor's work. It was enough though, he let out some of the rage inside of him. When it was over, finally he escorted the little bird back to her cage.

"What did he say to you?"

"Who?" Sansa gave a sideways glance at her one of her lady's before adding, "My Lord."

Sandor rolled his eyes.

"You know fucking who."

"Could you give us a moment" She said smiling sweetly until the swirl of silks scuttled off.

"It is none of your concern, he's been a friend to me. More than you know."

"What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?"

He found himself grabbing her shoulder and pushing her back against the wall, much harder than he had meant too. He must have knocked the wind from her and she let out a little gasp. He hand't meant too,  _it was that fucking creep_. He makes him so damn angry. 

"Let go of me! Why must you behave this way? "

She dusted herself off and bit her lip, refusing to look up at him. 

"What did he say? He's a nasty little cunt, don't trust a word of it."

"He said nothing. No need to lay your hand on me!"

Her hand maidens came rushing to her aid. Sansa blinked through tousled auburn hair.

"If you please..I think my ladies can escort me the rest of the way."

They each took and arm and shot him a daggered look before tottering up off the hall. 

_Seven fucking hells._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Tricked.

**SANSA**

 

_There was a time when I loved and trusted Joffery.. I even trusted Ser Dontos somewhat. They repaid that trust with nothing but death. My fathers head on a spike and rumours of a fat body covered in motley outside an ale house. I need to stop putting such trust into others. Perhaps I should be more cautious of The Hound. I should remind myself of all of the awful things he has done. I do not wish to make the same mistakes again. Mayhaps Lord Baelish had a point._

"My Lady?"

It was Cersei's handmaiden, the one with the square jaw and hard face. She had obtained a long red scar across one cheek not weeks ago, for reasons unknown. It gave her an even more intimidating air than before.

"The Queen asks that you join her in her chambers, My Lady. She has a gown for you, for this evenings festivities."

" _How Kind_ , of course. " 

A feast was being held for all of the wedding guests that had arrived for King Joffery and Margerys wedding in a few days. It was said the prince of Dorn was attending, along with all of the Martells, Redwynes, Tyrells, Freys, Tarlys, Fossoways and swifts. She wanted to make sure she was looking her very best, it was not everyday you got to sup with such unfamiliar and well respected Lords. What little _girl_ was left in her was excited, but only to fill how lonely she had become. A much more cynical voice spoke then,  _No doubt they will all be awful, and boring._

It had been difficult since King Joffery had cast her aside. She felt the eyes watch her as she walked the castle gardens, heard the soft giggles behind jewelled hands. No one wanted to be seen with the girl he no longer wanted, the girl that caused the riot, the reason the High Septon was torn apart. She had instantaneously become even more of an outcast than she already was, shunned by everyone around her. Content at first, she grew lonely, her only escape to steal a moment with Sandor Clegane. That was all that kept her going of late. When she lay in bed at night, it was his touch she yearned for, his voice she wanted to hear. As silly as she knew it to be, she still prayed he would somehow save her.

That is not to say that the new Queen was not unkind to her. Days before she had been summonded amoungst her _flock of hens_ as Lady Olenna had called them, to eat lemon cakes and drink spiced tea as they overlooked the bay. The real reason she soon discovered was nothing of the sort. It soon became clear they were digging, trying to uncover as much as they could of The King and his council before they were to join their houses for good. With a woman such as Lady Olenna it had proved difficult to keep such a tight lip, and sansa had been fretting about the words she had spoke ever since. 

 _I do hope this is not the real reason Cersei has summoned m_ e. She found her throat dry as she swallowed.

Though Sansa had found herself excited as she read the invitation the previous day, she ripped the paper opening it in such haste. Many weeks had passed since the riot, her bruises had faded away and scratches had healed, yet she had still not learnt anything of her fate. She still received the odd visit from Joffery to torture her in some way or an invitation to court. She was being left to her own doings, no longer watched day in, day out, a ward of sorts rather than a hostage. Things were too easy, no one had tried to use her for her claim. The soon to be Queen had mentioned a match with her older brother Ser Willis, though she had heard little more of it. In the moments that followed she scolded herself for being so stupid.  

When she reached her chambers she was met with a small army of faces, all surrounding Queen Cersei. A great number of guards in gold cloaks were present outside her door too, she noted, perhaps Cersei had also grown wary after the riot. 

"Little dove!" She proclaimed, pretending to be surprised by the arrival. "Sit, sit. I have a gift for you."

The Queen wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. She had arranged her hair artfully in a delicate silver net, with winking gemstones. Her hand clasped a goblet of sweet wine. The atmosphere in the room was strange, she knew something was a miss but not quite what. 

The gown that was brought out to her was equally as exquisite. A low cut dress, one similar to what Cersei herself would wear. 

"Beautiful, all silk and Myrish lace. Very costly. The colour will suit you well too."

She ran her fingers over the material carefully.

"Thankyou for your generosity and thoughtfulness your grace."

Sansa eyed her suspiciously. 

"But... what is the occasion?"

"Your wedding, little dove." She arched a brow. "To Tyrion"

Sansa scoffed something between a laugh and a gasp.

"You look much prettier with your mouth closed Sansa. Come along now, the septon is waiting, and the wedding guests as well. Im afraid it won't be much on your first wedding, but we felt it important to haste, what with the Kings own wedding happening so soon. "

"Wait….what…"

Queen Cersei studied her critically. "A few more gems, I think."

"At once, your Grace"

A hand maiden was quick to hang the moonstones Joffery brought her from her ears.

"Better. Now, I understand your reluctance my dear. Cry if you must. In your place, I would likely rip my hair out. He's a loathsome little imp, no doubt of it, but marry him you shall."

"No! You can't make me."

"Of course we can. You may come along quietly and say your vows as befits a lady, or you may struggle and scream and make a spectacle for the stableboys to titter over, but you will end up wedded and bedded all the same." The queen opened the door. Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Osmund Kettleblack were waiting, in the white scale armor of the Kingsguard. "Escort Lady Sansa to the sept," she told them. "Carry her if you must, but try not to tear the gown, it was very costly-"

Sansa tried to run, but Cersei's handmaid caught her before she'd gone a yard.

"No, No!" She blurted.

 _Now? Surely not. They mean to marry to the imp.. right.. now?_ A sickening feeling bubbled in her tummy and festered up her throat. _They tricked me!_  Sansa backed away releasing herself from the hand maidens grip. Ser Osmund Kettle black stood ominously behind them in the white scale of the Kingsguard, smirking. 

"Be brave sweetling. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren't they?"

 _Brave._ Sansa took a deep breath. _Where is Sandor?_  To be brave she needed him, just to see his face and know that she would be alright. She thought to run again, she thought to cry, but she knew neither would make much use. _I am a stark, and I have survived much worse. And he is not so bad as the rest of them._

"I'll go."

Cersei smiled. "I knew you would."

Some time later as they left her room and descended the steps they were met at the bottom by Joffery himself, and the great hulking shadow of Sandor Clegane behind him. His expression was stone, as always, but the words he had said to her repeated over and over in her head, " _I'll free you from this cage, thats a bloody promise"_. It gave her courage. The King was resplendent in crimson and gold, his crown perched at an angle on his head. Sansa glanced back at Sandor Clegane and found herself imagining him scooping her up by the waist and carrying her away to safety. _There are no hero's_ , she reminded herself. _Only monsters. If anything Ive learnt that by now._

"Im your father today." Joffery announced, extending a taffeta covered arm.

"You're not, your'll never be."

His face darkened. "I am. And I can marry you to whoever I like. To _anyone_. Your'll marry the pig boy if I say so, and bed down with him in the sty. Perhaps The Hound too. You can be his bitch and bed him in the kennels." Sansa's heart lurched.

They paced across the yard and stopped just before the small litter waiting by the gate. She could feel everyone staring, her cheeks were burning. Their litter had been sitting in the sun, and it was very warm inside the curtains. As they lurched into motion, Joffery reclined onto an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands in disbelief. He was talking, The King, though she could not say what he had said. As they reached the sept, she finally choked out a few words as a groom helped them both down onto ground.

"Please..if you ever loved me, even a little bit, you wouldn't do this-"

Tyrion Lannister stepped forward to great them.

"Your Grace." He said with a stiff nod. Tyrion looked up at her with his mismatched eyes and bowed.  

"My lady this is no way to bring you to your wedding. I am sorry for that. For it being so sudden, so secret."

_He knew? How many others knew? She wondered. Surely not Sandor, he would have told me. Wouldn't he?_

"My Lord father felt it necessary, for reasons of the state. Else, I would have come to you sooner." 

Tyrion raised a blunt fat fingered hand. She supposed she was meant to take it. 

"You look very beautiful Sansa." He said attempting a grin.

"It is good of you to say, My Lord."

Was she meant to call him handsome? She did not. 

He lowered his voice. "I know I myself am not much to look upon, but neither am I Joffery."

Sansa found herself giving the imp a weak smile.

"No. That you are not."

"Come." Her future husband said.  "Let us do our duty." 

 

 

**SANDOR**

 

The seven vows were made, the seven blessings invoked, and the seven promises exchanged. Though The Hound was not paying attention, instead he studied the new High Septons ridiculously tall crown, which stood twice as tall as the old one. _How the fuck that old crone even balancing that on his neck?_  It was a wonder it hadn't crushed him.

The girl looked as beautiful as ever, even next to the little beast stood beside her. He had known for days, hearing the secret betrothal be agreed during a small council meeting. He didn't dare warn her, there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. It was too risky to leave now, when so much of the focus was on her. He must be patient. _The time will come._  Still, The man they call the Hound found it even more difficult to witness than her marriage to Joffery. When the wedding song had been sung and the challenge had gone unanswered, it was time for the exchange of cloaks. The Hound watched impatiently as the boy King swept away her crimson cloak and gave it to the twisted little man next to him. The little bird turned away to do her part, but Joffery kicked away the stool meant so he could clasp it around her neck. Someone tittered. _Cersei._

The imp was tugging at her skirts, meaning for her to kneel. Through stubbornness or fear - he could not tell - the little bird stood ground and pretended to ignore the blushing dwarf at her feet. Joffery was laughing now, they all were. It spread through the sept like a disease.

"Hound." The King called.

His jaw tightened.

"My uncle needs a boost to climb his bride. Would you be so kind?"

So Sandor Clegane lifted the wriggling imp by the scruff of his doublet, just long enough for his fat little fingers to clasp the damn thing, before dropping him like a sack of shit onto the great marbled floor. Joffery was roaring with laughter, clutching at his belly.

When Tyrion looked up at her, his face was as red as her cloak.

"With this kiss…I pledge my love." Her voice was shaky, unsure.

Now, realising that she _must_ kneel, she lightly kissed the little Lord on the ground. _Its done then._  He felt his nostrils flare as he tried to keep the rest of his face composed. The Hound often associated anger with fire, a hot burning inferno of rage that had led him to kill many a man. But this..this feeling was cold. A frozen fury that burned deep inside of him, like ice. As their lips parted, cold ashes seemed to fall away and his mind clouded with hate.

_Passed around the Lannisters like some fucking camp follower._

Some hours later, in the small hall, dusk fell through its tall windows, and the candles were lit. It was a much more somber affair than her first wedding, bards playing ballads such as the rains of castamere over, and over again. No fools or dwarfs on wooden horses, just stiff dancing and godly readings. Sandor Clegane was not nearly as drunk as he had hoped to be either. Being as small a feast as it was - with a mere forty something guests - it made it difficult for him to sneak off to quench his thirst. 

Lord Tyrion however, had guzzled his way through many a flagon already. The Thick Dornish red, Arbour gold, dark bitter ale, sweet blackberry wine, it seemed not to matter much. By the time the first course came out he was red faced and swaying. It was a creamy soup of mushrooms and buttered snails, served in gilded bowls. The man quickly shovelled in mouthful after mouthful, splattering it all over his velvet doublet.

Sansa tasted a spoonful of soup and pushed the bowl away. ‘‘Not to your liking, my lady?’’ The imp asked, dribbling soup down his chin.

‘‘There’s to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy.’’ She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his betrothed Tyrell whore. _She is jealous of her._ He realised. _Stupid girl cannot wish to be back in her place. surely?_

"It is time." The boy proclaimed. "It is time for the bedding! Rip those clothes off of her! Let my Uncle have a taste of what I already have." Quickly other men took up the shouting as well.

Sandor winced. _Fuck this._  He trod across the rushes and rose petals, feeling relief in every crunch. He needed to get out of there. He thought to go to the alehouse, but wanted to drink alone. The blood-coloured wine in his cup was all the company he desired.

"I'll have no bedding." He heard the little birds new husband call out, quieting the cheers quickly. He turned back and saw the imps heavy eyes looking up from over his wine cup. It stopped The Hound in his tracks.

"There will be if I command it." Joffery said seizing the little birds arm. "Might be I come and warm her bed after your done with her. Might be half the gold cloaks will too."

The imp slammed his dagger down into the table, where it stood quivering.

"Then your'll be fucking your new wife with a wooden cock. I'll geld you, I swear it."

A shocked silence fell. Sansa tried to pull away from Joffery, but he had a tight grip on her and her sleeve ripped. Lord Tywin rose from his seat. "I believe we can dispense with the bedding. Tyrion seems to be rather drunk and unaware of his words."

Jofferys face twisted into a rage.

There was a spasm of fear across the imps face and before the King could speak, he swayed up from his seat. "It is only because I envy your own royal manhood, your Grace. Mine is so stunted and small." He gave a little bow as people began to snigger. Though none from the lips of King Joffery or Tywin Lannister. The imp hiccuped loudly and steadied his hand on the table in front of him, before belching.

"I believe I am going to be sick."

A dark lumpy of spray liquid burst from his mouth, covering most of the little birds feet.

A long silence followed, broken by Jofferys shrieks of joy. 

"Hound, escort Lord Tyrion to his chambers, alone."

"I am quite capable to waddle there myself." He spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

The little bird spoke up, staring at her toes."Your Grace. If I may be excused, I wish to go and change." 

Joffery was so delirious from laughing, he barely seemed to care and just waved his hand lazily in the air as he sucked in for breath. 

Sandor Clegane took it upon himself to escort her, craving her presence alone. He followed her outside quickly into the moonlight, breathing in the crisp autumn air. As soon as door closed behind them she exploded into a fit of giggles. 

"Perhaps the little bird is as drunk as her Lord husband." He rasped.

When he went to look at her, he saw her eyes were full with tears. They were wide, shining in the light above them. He supposed it was some crazed look of relief.  

"Let us leave. Now. Take me now, _I beg you_. Before I have to lay with him, I can not. I _will_ not." 

"Your right, you won't. You think I'd let that imp put his fat little hands on you?" His voice became a growl.

"Then please, lets go. Now. I'll take all my jewels, we can sell them, we can sneak out onto the docks…"

"We don't leave tonight little bird."

"Then when? I cannot stay in this Gods forsaken place a moment longer!"

Her hands were pushing all the loose hairs back from her face. The yard was silent other than the murmurs from inside the hall.

"Shhhh, little bird. If someone hears…" He grabbed her by the arm and ushered her away from the hall. 

"Your drunk." He scowled. Wishing that he was also.

"I am not, Ive only had two cups of wine."

Sandor rolled his eyes. She stumbled a little as they walked in the moonlight.

"What if he comes to my chambers tonight?" She whispered.

"I'll make sure that he doesn't."

Sansa shot him a worried look.

"As much as Id love to cut that smile off his face, that is not what I meant. Ill stand outside your fucking door all night if I have too."

The little bird smiled as they walked slowly back to her cage.

 

 

 

 


	12. Death bed.

**SANSA**

 

"Where would you have taken me? If I left with you that night, the Battle of Blackwater?"

He grabbed her shoulder hard, causing her to holt. His voice spoke quietly.

“Say it a little bloody louder girl. You want all of the eunuchs little spiders to hear you saying that?”

 She lowered her eyes and mouthed a sorry, suddenly conscious of the walls around them and what ears may be lurking behind. Sandor leaned forward to whisper close into her ear, her heart pounded a little faster.

"I was a fool. We never would have gotten away alive. Not then...”

Sansa smiled shyly at him. “Even so, where would you have taken me?”

Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he guided her further up the steps. 

“Anywhere out of this stinking pile of shit they call a city. Winterfell, might have been, could have been. Maybe even across the narrow sea, get myself a job as some fat Lords sell sword.” 

Sansa had always wanted to see the world outside the seven Kingdoms.  _It must be better than here, anywheres better than here_. Septon Mordane had once told her tales of the free cities; that the sun shined so hot that the women bared their stomachs and sometimes their breasts. They walked the streets without a care in the world, their hair oiled and braided, jewels through their noses. She said that Lords and Ladies have slaves that will do anything for their masters; and wear collars, like the kind you might find on a dog. She said everyone’s skin is the colour of horse leather and that they do not worship the seven, or even the old Gods but many different ones.  _I wouldn't bare my stomach, no matter how hot the sun,_  Sansa thought, covering her tummy with her hand. She tried to imagine The Hound there in his dull grey armour, long black hair sticking to the sweat on his face;  _he would be so hot in all that metal_. Maybe _he’d_ have to bare his stomach. The thought made her blush.

“I’d like to see the free cities one day.” 

"Eye. Even a dog gets tired of being kicked. Might be I see them myself soon." 

He pushed open the heavy door and ushered her in.

It was cold inside her chambers, the handmaidens had left the window ajar. 

"Goodnight. Little bird."

She heard him say. It made her heart sink a little in her chest. It meant it was time for them to part.

"Goodnight…. _Ser_."

Sansa said it with a grin as she threw him a look over her shoulder.

He was leaning against the frame.

"Fuck off." He scoffed. 

The smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Sandor broke the silence with a raspy "Hmm.." as he went to shut the door.

His hands had barely clasped the metal before she spoke again.

"Stay with me. Tonight." 

She blurted it. Almost too loudly, seemingly surprising them both. 

She didn't want to be alone. Only to be alone with him. Perhaps it was the sweet wine she had drank at the feast. Perhaps it was the loneliness that had taken hold of her recently. Perhaps she just couldn't bare to spend a minute longer in this perpetual state of want and turmoil. But she wanted him, she wanted him desperately. 

Sandor Clegane looked at her long and hard for a moment.

"You know I can not."

Sansa stepped towards him, bold as brass, her head cocked to the side a little.

"Please, it is not right for me to sleep alone on my wedding night..."

 _Perhaps it is the wine_. Her heart was racing, she felt alive. 

Sandor breathed what she thought may have been a laugh.

"You should return to your lord husbands bed."

His hand left the door handle. 

"The one soaked in piss and wine?"

He grumbled with laughter.

"You are starting to sound like me."

"I am starting to love you."

Sansa turned away stunned, her cheeks blushing with the thoughts that were racing through her mind. She wasn't sure why she had said it, or if she even had.

For a moment there was silence, she just stared at the bed in front of her, walking towards it, wishing that he would say something, anything. She dare not look back. The silence grew longer. _I’m so stupid. Why did I say_ …The door shut. Her heart dropped.  _He's gone._  

But suddenly she felt him move close behind her, his footsteps creaking heavily along the floor. He stopped, though never touching her, just standing inches from her back. She could _feel_ his presence. _Feel_ how close he was. If she strained to listen she could hear his slow deep breaths inhale just above her ear. The anticipation for him to touch her left her aching with desire, she closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing under control, but it scarcely seemed to help at all. _What am I doing?_

Finally a large hand came to meet her side, rubbing her gently up then slowly down. His fingers wrapped around her waist. She felt him pull her closer; so she tilted backwards, brushing against his torso. She felt his breath tickle the side of her neck, and tilted her head away inviting him to kiss there like he had before. She found herself feeling dizzy, longing for his touch, her senses heightened. The faintest brush of his lips ran across the soft skin just behind her ear, yet it was too much for her to handle. Her stomach knotted with something between fear and desire. Time seemed to stand still if only for a moment, as she felt the hairs of his beard brush over her skin. _What am I doing?_ She asked herself again. She felt the slight wetness from his lip. He seemed to mouth a word against her ear, yet she could not make out what he had said. The silence only added to the ever-growing tension between them, so she shut her eyes, praying he would touch her. He brushed his face against her neck and spun her around so fast she had to grab his arms to steady herself.

Sansa could barely look up at him but he lifted her face with his hand. She was terrified, terrified and bewildered. "Little Bird." He rasped. 

He stared deeply at her, his grey eyes mesmerising her. She found herself pulling herself towards him, so their stomachs pressed together tightly. The metal of his armour digged into her skin. She reached out for his other hand and guided it towards her. A flurry of words darted about her mind.  _I want you to touch me. I want you to kiss me like you did before. I want you to share my bed with me and never leave this room again. I want you to love me._ But her throat was dry and the words would not come. 

Instead he kissed her passionately, hands on both of her painted cheeks. His fingers ran through her hair as their foreheads pressed together, staring deep into her eyes. She lost herself in him completely. The Hound then took her by surprise, pushing her down onto the bed behind them, submerging her in furs and silks. She looked up at the man stood before her, eyes wide. He gave her a wicked grin. Sansa licked her lips in anticipation, her heart beating wildly in her chest. He began to remove his gleaming white cuirass, tearing at the straps on the sides. He moved with precise haste, removing piece by piece. The final part clattered onto the floor. She gasped as he let out a deep growl of a laugh as he moved closer to the bed. _Someone will hear_ - but the thought was far away. _He looks..beautiful._ It was an odd word to use to describe Sandor Clegane, but there in that moment, it seemed the only thing that would do.

He pulled at the neck of his jerkin to loosen it, unthreading the leather straps that tightened it along the front.

"We'll get caught." He said.

"I don't care…"

"They'll kill us both." He was still ripping off his clothes.

"I don't care…" She felt her legs move seductively in the furs, revealing part of her calf. She wanted him so badly. She could feel the blood rushing between her legs. He looked so handsome. His piercing eyes were looking down at her through a mass of black hair. "I want you." She wriggled her legs among the furs, needing his embrace. Soon he crawled over her, slowly, not breaking his intense stare. The linen shirt he wore underneath hung off his muscular torso loosely, revealing a scared shoulder and brawny chest. 

“I’m going to fuck you.” He had a wicked smile. Hearing him say the words made Sansa's heart jump right out of her chest, the aching feeling inside of her calling out for his touch once more. 

“Let me see you” He rasped, his voice deep and demanding. Sansa was quick to obey but her fingers were so clumsy she struggled to unfasten her dress. He pulled a dagger from the sword belt by his feet and held it up sharp against her chest. She could feel the point twisting gently on the skin and he began to smirk, revealing a chipped tooth she had never noticed before. Sansa felt a pang of fear, fear that she had no control over this man on top of her, he could do whatever he wished. Fear that someone would catch them and cut off their heads. Fear that he would hurt her. _He's The Hound._  Her stomach was knotting. She was completely helpless. _Please don’t hurt me._ Doubt flashed through her mind, _what am I doing? I shouldn’t, I cant._

He reached up to her breast and grabbed at the fabric, then slashed open the bodice with one swoop of the blade. The remains of her dress slid off her body, reveling her chest right down to her navel. He stopped for a moment and looked at her, his breathing hitching slightly. He smiled. Soon he grabbed a breast, then the other, while he bent down on his knees and kissed her neck. He was on top of her. On his knees. His mouth and tongue sucked at her skin, slowly tracing down from her neck to her breasts. His teeth closed around her nipple, so hard it made her moan. He rolled his tongue over it and looked up at her. Suddenly all of the doubt had left her mind. She was _aching_. She wanted him. And there was no turning back now, Sansa knew, but she didn't care. She wanted him. All of him. Gingerly she wrapped her hands around his muscular arms as he kissed away at her.  _He is so strong_. _So rough yet so gentle._

He ran his big hands over her and pulled away the rest of the fabric, grabbing at her thighs pulling them apart. Suddenly she felt so exposed, like there was no hiding from him as he drank in her sight. The sensation caused Sansa to let out a soft little moan, that only seemed to encourage him further. For a moment he just knelt transfixed looking at her, up and down. She covered her face, shy. His body was thick with muscle. His chest broad and hairy, smattered with scars. Veins weaved down each arm, around each tendon. His hand was running down her stomach, until he finally reached down between her legs, were he stopped, gently brushing his fingers over the hair. He slipped his fingers down, rubbing gently over the little mound of flesh that sent sparks flying through her body when he touched it. A finger slowly slipped between her wet folds, sending Sansa into a frenzy of building pleasure. He was kissing her passionately, though she could feel him smiling at the wetness he had created there.

The stubble of his beard was rubbing at her face, scratching at the skin on her chin. He took away his hand and his kisses became rougher, biting at the skin as he worked his way down over her stomach.  _I want him to touch me there again._  The kisses became sucks until slowly he reached the place between her legs. Sansa looked down at him licking there, an image that made her let out a quiet squeal of pleasure and enticement. She felt a naughty smile creep up on her face, seeing him there, between her legs. His tongue was rolling over the little pink bit of flesh, pressing on it slightly, then between her folds until it felt like his tongue was entering her.

Sandor looked up at her as he done it, his gleaming grey eyes meeting hers, half of his face covered with auburn hair. Soon it was too much for her; she threw back her head as he pressed on the little ball of flesh one last time releasing her with waves of pleasure that sent chills throughout her entire body. She felt herself rocking her hips against his mouth, his hands grabbing hold of her buttocks, squeezing hard with calloused fingertips. She threw her own hands around the back of his neck, her fingernails digging into his flesh, urging him to press harder. The feeling seemed to last forever, like she had just fell apart, right there in his hands. He pulled himself up on top of her, placing each hand on either side of her head, his knees pushing her legs even further apart. Sansa was rolling her head in the pillows, breathing uncontrollably, desperate for him to touch her again.

“Look at me.” Sandor growled, his voice low and forceful. She opened her eyes obediently, to be met with his intense stare. He was fumbling around with his breeches, his torso pressed against her own. She could feel the warmness of his chiseled stomach against her own. Then she felt his manhood press against her too.  _Oh my_. He pulled it down and pressed it over the wetness between her legs, rubbing it back and forth causing her to moan again. As he pushed back her legs Sansa glanced down and caught a glimpse of his length, and _girth_...guiding it towards to her. Her eyes grew wide. 

“You sure you want this girl?” He rasped. Her neck was so tight she could scarcely nod. She watched him as he guided his cock over her wetness again, rubbing it teasingly over, back and forth. His body was so big and strong, his torso was covered in scars. He looked like a true warrior. Two deep muscualr lines on his hips went downwards, as if directing her eyes there. He pulled himself closer again and kissed her neck, before whispering 'Little bird' into her ear. The raspy tone alone made her heart skip a beat and her hands grabbed a fistful of furs on the bed. He slammed down deep inside of her slowly, with a single thrust. Pain seared inside her for a brief moment and she groaned loudly. He too let out a deep harsh moan into her ear. The feeling of making a man like Sandor Clegane moan made her stomach clench and her heart stop. Sansa’s eyes grew wide as she placed her hands on his forearms, digging her nails into his skin. _He is inside me._  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the head.  _I feel so full._  He paused for a moment, staying still inside of her. The feeling was overwhelming. She was sure her heart was about to burst.

He closed his eyes and thrust into her again, then again. He shifted onto his elbows, his weight on Sansa, pinning her down onto the bed. He moved slowly at first, easing himself in and out of her, only to pound into her harder and faster each time. Sansa bit her lip so hard she was sure she could taste the metallic taste of blood. She let out another moan.

"I'm not hurting you am I girl?!" He rasped, stopping the motion. She shook her head vigorously. _Quite the opposite._  She was so wet, her nipples hard. Her body began to quiver like it had before.  _I didn’t know it could feel like this, I didn’t know it could feel this good._  She found herself feeling as though he and her were the only two people in the world at that very moment, like nothing else even seemed to matter. They were the only two people in the Seven Kingdoms, in the World. The building sensation made her rock her hips against his as she met each thrust. She wrapped her legs around his muscular back, bringing herself as close to him as she possibly could. He was rougher with her now, sliding in and out of her with ever building passion. Sansa could feel how wet she had become. It felt so good. He sucked her nipple as he fucked her harder and faster each time, causing Sansa to moan louder and louder with pleasure.

He pushed her legs up higher, over his shoulders and clamped his palm hard over her mouth. She looked down at him inside of her. His black hair against her own. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he thrust into her over and over again. She was bouncing herself against his hips. The feeling was amazing. He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her hard on the mouth. Soon her body convulsed around him once more. Sandor followed with three more sharp powerful thrusts, pouring himself into her as he found his own release. He collapsed on top of her, his face burrowed in her auburn hair. “Little bird.” He breathed again.


	13. Smiling eyes.

**SANDOR**

_Fuck._

The man they called The Hound swung his legs down from the bed, his calloused palms rubbing his eyes. _Had he dreamt it?_

He looked back at her over his shoulder, a naked mass of pale skin and red curly locks.He slowly ran his index finger along the soft warm calf of her leg, just to make sure she was real. It made her moan quietly as she shifted anoungst the silks. _It was no dream._

Sandor watched the goosebumps rise along her skin where he had touched her.  _I should not have_ …Her skin was so soft and smooth, pale and perfect. For a moment he watched her chest rise and fall as she took each breath, her lips parted slightly.  _Fuck._  Sandor Clegane rested his head, heavy in his hands. _What have I done?_ He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  _But what is my life if not a string of regrets?_   He laughed at himself. Fumbling on his shirt, Sandor began the process of becoming The Hound again. He slowly donned his armour, yanking it on piece by piece. He struggled with the straps, as he always had. His hands were too damn big.

_She is just a girl._

Spotting a flagon of wine on her side, he necked it desperately, only to realise it was heavily watered. A soft moan came from the silks. Had he hurt her? _Fuck_. He spotted the ruin that was his face in her looking glass, it caught him off guard. He did not care to be reminded of the monster his brother had made him. The monster he was was. _What the fuck have I done?_ He looked to the window, he was lucky. It was still nightfall. 

As he reached her door, he heard her call out for him.

 _Wine._ He thought recklessly. _I need some wine._

And he left, silently, off to drink away the pain.

 

**SANSA**

She woke well before dawn, the sky was still dark - full of tiny luminous stars. Her chambers were silent, other than the breeze against her window.  _He left me._ Did she truly expect otherwise?  _He could never have stayed.. even if he wanted too,_ she told herself. Sansa rolled onto her back, suddenly aware of how sore she felt between her legs. Queerly, it made her smile. Running her hand over the bed, she caressed the silks where he had lay just hours before. She closed her eyes to remember his touch, his smell. The leathery, earthy musk that clung to his body. She pictured his face, not a simple vision, but every single detail. Every eyelash, every twisted piece of scar, slick across his cheek, every misshapen lump of skin, every strand of thick black hair. The way he had looked at her. The way he had kissed her. Suddenly it seemed that every single part of him was handsome, and not this scary beast that had frightened her so much before. She wrapped her arms around herself. _I love him._ She blushed at the thought.  _I wonder if he is thinking of me?_

When morning came, she tried her best to hide her unease to her handmaidens. She sipped some honeyed water but only pushed the berries around her plate. When questioned about not breaking her fast, she simply said "There is to be another seventy-seven courses today, I do not wish to fill up so early on." 

In truth she was too nervous too eat. Too giddy. The Hound had came to her room and took her, and she wanted him to do it again and again. How could she eat with thoughts such as those swirling around her head?

Sansa choose to wear a demure dress of pale green samite, one that flowed down elegantly into a long trail. The bodice was covered in tiny pearls, trimmed with cloth of silver. Shae plaited her hair on the crown of her head, and let the rest fall down into loose ringlets. When she looked at herself she smiled, though the darkness under her eyes told of little sleep.

Podrick Payne was the first to knock upon her door that morning, looking awkward and red faced. He wore a burgandy leather jerkin that looked far too big for him, his shoulders seemed to be pushed up to his ears. When she opened the door there was a moment when she thought he had forgotten what he was mean to say, but he quickly cleared his throat.

"Good morning, My Lady. I come on behalf of Lord Tyrion, he wishes to apologise for his behaviour last night. It seems he was quite drunk. He hopes that perhaps you can join him in the gardens before the Royal wedding this afternoon?"

Sansa had almost forgotten about her new husband, it made her scoff out a laugh to which Podrick seemed utterly aghast. _Oh yes, of course. My husband. I am a Lannister aren't I? How silly of me._ The truth of it was that her mind was so full of Sandor Clegane, she had not spared a second to think of anything else. _I'm married._ She shook her head _. ...to the imp. And I had forgotten!_ The hysterical giggling just wouldn't stop, it burst from her lips. 

"Are you quite well, My Lady?"  Podrick asked, clearly confused. 

"Yes, yes. quite well." Her cheeks had begun to hurt. "Tell my Lord husband I will visit him as soon as I am properly dressed."

He gave a forced little bow and went on his way, leaving Sansa in her door way trying to hold back her grin.

"Was M'ladys wedding night really so funny?" Shae asked, eyes narrowed.

"It was never consummated, thankfully. Tyrion was far too drunk."

Sansa sat back down to rub more perfumed ointments on her chest.

Shae smiled, which Sansa found odd. Until she said...

"But for how long?" 

It was true. All of the wedding guests knew it was not consummated, they saw the state of him. _They saw me leave to my chamber and never return…and he must have been carried to his own. I wonder if he is_ _embarrassed?_

Sansa chose a selection of moonstone and emerald rings from her jewellery box. She took turns holding them up against her dress to see which suited it better.

 _What if Joffery makes_ us _do the deed tonight?_ She could not bare the thought. Plus, she was too sore. She cringed, the thought made her feel odd and slightly sick. Suddenly the laughing had stopped, the grinning gone. It was Sandor Clegane she wanted, no one else. Not a lannister. Certainly not the imp. _What am I to do? Sandor wouldn't let me lay with him…would he?_

The new bride was almost ready to leave when another much louder knock landed on her door. It was the future Lord of the Vale, wearing a smile that was on his mouth, but not his eyes.

"Lord Baelish, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Her voice was a little shaky. 

"I hope I am not intruding Lady Sansa, but I have a matter of great importance to discuss."

Curious, she nodded. 

"Of course."

He looked to Shae and the others with distaste.

"Alone, if possible."

Raising an eyebrow, she nodded again.

The handmaidens left quickly, closing the door quickly behind them.

"Thankyou, I am sorry to come to you like this, but I needed to make sure I was the first."

Sansa could feel her belly filling with dread.

"What is it, My Lord?"

Peyter Baelish opened his mouth as if to speak, but chose not to say the words. Instead he smiled.

"Lord Baelish..?"

He adjusted the mockingbird pin clasped around his neck before he spoke again.

"Forgive my saying so My Lady, but you look awfully tired. Perhaps you did not get much sleep?"

Sansa could do nothing to hide the blush that crept up from her neck to her cheeks. 

She quickly went to sit back by her dressing table, trying to hide her telling face from him.

"No…no I could not." 

A hint of a smile lifted in the corner of his mouth. He walked very slowly past her, dragging a finger along the edge of her dresser. It was ominous, and she found herself holding her breath.

"Me either, not with all the noise."

He stopped behind her. A quiet creak told her his hand was resting on the back of her chair.

"Noise, My Lord?"

"The Hounds. Barking. Kept me awake for quite some time."

Lord Baelish lent towards her, much closer than she would have liked him too. She could feel his breath in her ear, it sent a shiver down her spine. His voice was nothing but a whisper.

"Dogs should be kept in kennels at night, Sansa. It is worrisome what they could get up too, else wise."

Panic filled her insides. An invisible hand seemed to cover her mouth. She couldn't inflate her lungs, she couldn't breathe. Something had an iron lock around them. _He Knows. He knows. He knows…_

He sighed loudly and pulled away, in a manner that filled her with dread.

"Dogs and wolves, similar creatures. But then... also, so very different."

Sansas heart was in her mouth. She could not even gather her thoughts to say a word. Lord Baelish continued..

"It is curious how fast news can travel around this castle, My Lady. Should it fall into the wrong hands…"

_Someone saw us? They saw him leaving? They know!_

The following words tumbled out of her mouth in a muddle.

"Please, Lord Baelish. I…I beg you. I'll do anything…"

"My dear, do not panic. This is no threat. I do not threaten my friends. I only wish to help them." He walked around the table in front of her and took a seat, reaching out to hold her hand tightly in his own. His palms were much softer than she imagined they would be.

"It was a very dangerous thing to do Sansa. I can call you Sansa can't I?"

She wasn't even sure if she nodded, she was shaking so much.

"I am so very sorry to bring you this news Sansa, I really am. I had hoped that with the help of my trusted friend Ser Dontos I could have helped you much sooner…"

"Ser Dontos?!"

She was confused. And scared. Tears were creeping into the corners of her eyes.

"But…then..The Hound saw to that.." He took a moment to look down at the table between them, as if in memory.

…"Alas here I am, too late. And I am afraid The King already knows of your little plan. Or should I say, The Hound's little plan."

"P..plan?"

His voice lowered again.

"He meant to take you during the wedding feast."

Sansa's eyes grew wide.

"But He will not.."

Lord Baelish pressed his lips together "..What The King has in mind for you both, I can only imagine. His own loyal trusted dog, stealing his beautiful first wife, right from under his nose. Betraying him like that..breaking his trust. Gods, oh the bards will write so many songs. Aren't dogs supposed to be loyal?"

He stroked his hand over the back of her own, then lifted it to her chin to take a look at her face as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It was terribly awkward, she found herself flinching away.

"Beauty….and the beast." he said softly.

Lord Baelish shook his head, smiling. 

"Now…anyway, mayhaps you would like to be elsewhere before we find out what the King thinks of all this?"

Her neck was so stiff with fear she could barely nod. 

"You are lucky, however. It seems our good king slept well, and knows nothing of dogs and their barking. Only that one wishes to escape...with a prize that is much loved and special to him."

He pushed his hand back through his hair. Sansa noticed for the first time the threads of grey running through it.

"What the King does not know, is that his prize wanted to leave willingly with his mad dog, and that she shared her bed with him..... But… that news I cannot stop from reaching his ears eventually." Baelish rubbed his fingers softly over hers.

She could not get the words out of her mouth.

"He….he already knows….Where..where is…?"

Sansa Stark could not bring herself to speak his name. The tears were already falling down her cheeks one after the other.

"It is too late for The Hound, I am afraid. The King already has him. I saw Ser Meryn and the others drag him off not long ago. I am sorry, Sansa. Truly I am. Love can be such a cruel thing."

There were no words. The Seven Kingdoms, everything and everyone within them collapsed all around her at once. It stung so deep within her chest she was sure her heart would stop. _It is too late.._  The words rung in her mind. _It is too late_ … _it is too late….he is...dead..._  Sansa let out a hysterical cry. Seeing her despair and leaving his seat, the future Lord of the Vale knelt before her and offered his arms for a tight embrace. She sobbed into the satin of his shoulder, gasping in lavender scented breaths. 

"Shhhh.." He whispered, rubbing the small of her back.

"Please, Lord baelish. Tell me what to do…Tell me when…" Her voice was trembling, the panic was racing around every inch of her body.

He took her face in his hands, rubbing each thumb on her flushed cheeks.

"Stay calm, Sansa. I will help you. But you must trust me. I hope you know that I am your friend."

She nodded desperately, no longer even trying to hold back the sobs.

"Good. Now be Strong, _like your mother_. You mustn't let anyone know ought is a miss."

He wiped away a tear.

"Now, not under any circumstances, will you mention the Hounds disappearance. You knew nothing of him planning to _kidnapp_ you, remember."

Sansa nodded.

"You will still attend the wedding, smile and wish your congratulations to the new royal couple. You know nothing of what I just told you. Do you understand?"

Sansa nodded fiercely. Hanging on his every word.

"Good. For now, I must leave you…"

She let out a gasp.

"I am sorry I must be so brief. I am awaiting on an assignment, if it goes well. You can leave with me, tonight. But It would be wise for you to be ready at a moments notice."

She nodded, still lost for words.

"Thankyou, Lord Baelish. Thankyou."

"Please, call me Peyter.

Sansa nodded, her hands covering her mouth to control the cries.

"Another thing my dear, make sure to wear this necklace."

His long delicate fingers were running over the purple gems that Ser Dontos had given her.

"You need gems to match your beauty. Especially on a day such as this. "

Lord Baelish smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes, and left her alone in her golden prison, distraught.

 


	14. For love.

**SANDOR**

 

 

 _Fuck fucking weddings_. He thought grimly. _I can recite that shit as well as the High Septon now I should think. Seven this, seven that_. He rolled his eyes.  _No one gives seven fucks._

He was sat at a trencher table facing the wall, tearing the meat off a chicken leg. The wedding was to take place within the hour, the rest of the Kingsguard had began to gather outside to arrange the litter for the King and his new bride. Sandor Clegane was late as it was, but with all the commotion he reckoned no one would notice, or miss him much. He broke his fast with the grooms and stable boys, much preferring their company to those of the Kingsguard. The food he preferred too, not these jams and fucking pastries they had in the white sword tower.

Instead, he chose to devour a whole chicken, some roasted beets and then washed it down with half a cup of dark ale. He sat mulling over it for some time, swirling the liquid around until it formed a little hurricane of bubbles in the centre. He sat in silence, listening to the others jabber about all the things they would like to do to the new Queen if it was their wedding night. He couldn't help but smirk when a pimple faced stable boy went on to act out the motions over the edge of the table, his scrawny arse thrusting into the air. But the howls of laughter came to an abrupt end when the master of horse came in to send them off to their duties. Sandor was the last one to finish - which was most unlike him - something was slowing him down.

 _The girl._ He had not seen her yet, not since.. _Seven hells._  He pulled at the collar under his gorget. _What a fucking mess._  Sandor Clegane had been cursing himself since he had woke that morning - _it was a stupid fucking thing to do_ \- no matter how much he had wanted it. And oh how he had wanted it.  _Gone mad by a pretty face._ He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair _. If a single person gets wind of what happened.._ No woman was worth that, not even the little bird. It was a miracle no one had seen him leave in the morning, he was sure he was going to have to slit the throats of a handmaiden or two. _No one must know._ He told himself over and over again _, no matter who I have to kill for silence._

Sandor had laid there for hours that morning, watching her. Not quite believing that she was real. Wondering what he had done to deserve such a thing - _If he was wise to do such a thing_. Trying to understand if it was guilt he could feel in the pit of his stomach, or something much more. He wasn't certain, but there in the warm of her bed, beneath the furs, her naked body pressed against his own, he did not care an inch. Instead he smiled and ran his fingers down the soft velvety skin of her cheek.

But when the sun had risen, and he slipped away - alone - into the cold, crisp dawn light, he felt something quite different. Was it regret? He didn't know. But whatever it was he didn't want to face it, so the dark smokey kitchens had suited him just fine. A few battered pieces of wood and rusty nails disconnecting him from the rest of the world outside that door.

He tried his best to clear his head, but the thoughts came crashing down, like waves over a rock. _What the fuck have I done?_ He simply couldn't stop himself. _She wanted me. She asked me to stay. Any man would have done the same._ He necked the last of his ale. _But I am not any man, I am the Kings dog._ He found his hands tightening into fists. Blood was pumping through his body, pulsing through his veins.

 _All she had to do was ask, and I came running like the fucking dog that I am_. The frustration of wanting her so very badly, but not ever being able to have her, it wrapped itself around his skull, mocking him. It had done since the moment that they met. Half of him wanted all the little Lords and Ladies to know. _The burned half._  He wanted them to know that someone like him had someone like her. She was everything that he wasn't, and yet...everything he used to be.

As a boy, all Sandor had ever dreamed of was being a knight. _Honour. Glory. HA! Lies._  For years, he had watched his older brother grow into a promising and impressive squire. At thirteen, he towered over enough men to be given the name 'The Mountain'. Sandor would stand and watch him as he trained in the yard, putting boy after boy on their arse in the dirt. He grew envious of his size, his strength. There was a time when he wanted to be just like him. _Cunt._ The Hound snorted and spat on the floor.  _Let me tell you what makes a knight. Killing and cock sucking._ Then, with Lord Tywin and his fathers influence, Prince Rhagear Targaryen kindly anointed _Ser_ Gregor personally. A great _honour_ for his family, they said.

 _Their was no honour in Gregor. No honour in the things he did._ Sandor thought of the sister he once had. Of Eila Martell and her young children. Of playing with his brothers wooden horse in front of the open hearth. A flash of anger saved him. _Fuck. She'll see soon, that this world is not the way we think it is._

He pushed away his plate.

 _I am a monster, a dog, no little Lady would ever want me_. But this one had, _the little bird wanted me_. _She wanted me to fuck her all night and wake up and fuck her some more._ It made him feel strange, and made his cock stir.

That morning, when he had returned to his chamber from her own, he had lay on his bed with a flagon of the strongest dornish red he could find. Yet for the first time, in a _very_ long time, he did not drink it. Instead, he sat and watched the candle by his bed burn lower and lower, his fingers stroking the hilt of his sword. It was quite plain, no fancy carvings or garish jewels like these other _Sers_ had _._ Just good polished steel and a black leather bound grip. The pommel was bronze, a circular plate, like a shiny new copper. He wondered how many men it had carved itself through. Then how many of those men Joffery had ordered him to kill...

He was sick of following orders, sick of never questioning anything. The little bird had made him question such a lot. He took a long hard gulp of wine, but when it hit his stomach, it did not comfort him as it usually did. It sat in is belly, thick and hot and uncomfortable.

Something had changed.

He had drowned these feelings with wine and ale for long enough. It never done him any use, not really. For years he had used it to try and numb the thoughts from entering his mind, but they still haunted him regardless - and how he hated it. It made him resentful and bitter, sour and miserable like an old crone. Rage constantly simmered under the surface of his very soul, frustration and hatred oozing out of him. It wasn't the drink that done it, but rather the place he had somehow found himself in. He thought it better once his brother had left the keep to fight in the war. _Cunt_. At least he wouldn't have to see his face and be reminded of the self loathing bubbling inside of him. It was odd, how a single face constantly reminded him of how much he hated the world. The only people he has ever loved had betrayed him, burned him, lied to him. The hate still followed him around like a pimple faced squire, clawing at his back for glory and gold.

He was sick of having no control over his own bloody life. Sick of doing the killing of these fucking Lords and Sers. Sick of watching them kill each other over that bloody iron chair. He was stuck in a perpetual state of misery and frustration.Most of all he was sick of watching them hurt her.That wasn't the man he was, nor wanted to be.

 _I'm sick of bloody feeling like this._  He had tried so very hard to become empty, like an iron shell, with strong arms and sharp steel, that simply done as he was bid. And for a time, he had.  _It was safe, easy._  Over the years he had built himself his very own castle wall, much thicker than the Red keeps, to protect him - and to keep anyone out. But the girl had gotten in, somehow. _Flown over the top and shat on my head._ He felt for her, he knew it, no matter how much he had willed it no. _And now I must protect her. Or the same will happen to her. Or worse._

He never wanted to be part of the game, yet here he was amongst them,playing it, just like her. _Not even that though am I? I'm a fucking pawn._ Sandor pushed open the shutters that barred his window, throwing a thick plume of dust back into his face. It made a loud creaking sound as he did, they had not been opened in years.The sun was beginning to rise, the sky an orangey yellow.He breathed in the dewy morning air.Kings Landing came to life beneath him, stinking and crumbling as far as he could see.He knew it like the back of his hands, every shit filled alley way and flea ridden whore house. _Home_ , he grumbled.

Nearby a pigeon was cooing.Sandor sighed loudly, scaring it so it flapped its wings wildly away. _I don't want to die in this shit city._ _And dying is what will happen soon if they find out._ The girl had made him senseless. He could have got them both killed. _My head should be on a spike. With my cock stuffed in my mouth._  He rubbed away the thought with the back of his hand.  _Fuck only knows what they would have done with her._ He was angry at himself for being so reckless. He had wanted her so badly, it had taken away his wits. _But fuck it was worth it_. He grinned like a boy. The neither of them could stay there a second longer though, it was far far too dangerous. He has never run from anything before in his life, but now for her sake, it might be best.  

 _But if I leave with her,_ _she'll only cause me trouble._   _Every cunt wanting a pocket full of gold will be looking for her._ Besides, he had asked her once before and she had refused, _why the fuck should I ask again? She had her chance._  The memory still hurt him.

He argued with himself, until all was overshadowed by a voice from the very back of his mind.  _She wanted me. I did not take her. Not like before, when I wanted too._  His jaw clenched. _She was the one who asked me into her bed._  The realisation gave him a surge of power, _if I cannot protect her, who the fuck can. I can't leave her here in the lions den on her own._ _Shes been through enough._ He couldn't let the Imp have her, she was his. His and no one elses. He couldn't go through walking her to his bed everynight as he had Joffery. He would never make that mistake again _. Fuck the Imp. Fuck the Lannisters. Fuck the King._

_Im taking her._

And there in the quiet stillness of his chamber, he made a silent oath to himself. He didn't swear it by the seven, nor the old Gods or the New. He didn't swear it like another he had made - one promised years ago - the one to kill his brother. No, that was for revenge, for  _hate_. This… well this oath was different. This was one for... love. And so he did, he swore to protect her, now, and for the rest of his days. 

Back in the kitchens he sucked the last of the meat from the bone.

 _Tonight is the night_. He was ready, everything had been prepared just as he had planned. He had spent the morning racing around the city arranging everything he deemed necessary. Their provisions were hidden in the stables, easy for him to straddle to Stranger before they left. Passage for a man and his daughter had been bought across the narrow sea. A black dye bought from a Bravosi merchant was to colour her auburn hair. His coin belt was fit to bursting, his sword sharpened to a lethal edge. _I'll take her when they start the bedding._

He pushed his plate away. _I must get going, Ive hidden here long enough_ It had been a cloudy and busy morning. He needed a drink. _Hells. No_. Sandor had promised himself he would keep a clear head for the night before them, but he needed one just to calm his nerves. _Just one._ He thought again, rubbing his beard. _Just one won't hurt._

When he reached the cellar in the kitchens, there was already a barrel out on the side, a tankard set next to it. _Must be for the wedding._ The tap had dripped out onto the table. A sweet Arbour Gold by the looks of it, he dipped his finger in the pool to taste it.

It tasted strong, but sort of odd, though he was so thirsty he did not care much. Half of the wine in the kitchen was piss water, least no one would miss a shitty one like this. He quickly poured himself a cup and gulped down half of it down before letting out a belch. _That'll do._ He thought. It left a kind of metallic taste on his tongue. _I should get back, I need to see her before she leaves. Make sure she'll be ready._ He was still unsure whether or not to tell her, or simply grab her while no one else was looking _. What if she screams? She'll only fuck it up. No, no i'll tell her only when its time._

He found himself nervous about seeing her again, he couldn't stop thinking about the face she made when he put his cock inside her for the first time. _She wanted it, she wanted.. me._ His cock began to throb hard just thinking about it. _Maybe I could stick my cock in her again now.. Wrap my hand around her throat and push her face into the furs._  His blood was getting up. He imagined running his tongue over her breasts again. _Fuck. I need to see her._

When he stood, his knees went weak, his head all light and dizzy. Sandor had to slam his hands down on the table to steady himself. He grunted, _all the bloods rushed from my head to my cock._ He started laughing.

But when he went to take another pull of wine he couldn't seem to push his lips apart to take a sip.

He frowned _. No. Somethings wrong_.

The Hounds body felt strange, heavy and slow. He slumped back down into the chair, trying to speak but unable to move his mouth. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. As his body went numb he fell hard onto the floor, his head cracking on the stone. Seconds passed as he lay there, gasping shallow, short breaths. Slowly blackness took the edges of his eyes, _What the fuck is happening?..._

until eventually, it filled into complete darkness.

_Little Bird…._

 

 

 

**SANSA**

 

His absence was crippling her every thought.

_Its true, its true, its true._

_He's dead. He's dead. He's dead._

The despair inside her was unimaginable, she could not stop herself from trembling. Fear engulfed her body as soon as Lord Baelish had left her chamber. In seconds she was curled tight in her bed, her only movement the shaking of her limbs and salty tears darkening her sleeves. Panic sparked tiny clusters inside her stomach, growing the tension in her limbs.  _They know._ The lump in her throat bubbled as she thought it. _They will murder me. Murder me in front of everyone, just like they did my father._

Yet when she had finally gotten the courage to leave her golden cage, it was as though nothing had happened. It felt _eerie_. Nothing was said. She was never summoned, nor dragged out of her room by her hair. Her head was not taken from her shoulders, nor was she hung from her neck. It was a normal day, other than the excitement for the Royal wedding of course, but nothing seemed a miss.

She had left with her handmaidens and Ser Preston Greenfield, who had escorted them to her litter. She recieved the same false smiles, and half curtseys she always had. No one gave her so much as a second glance - except a couple of side eyes and those whispered comments about how awful she had looked. Yet this was not something anyone would find questionable, she had looked that way for most of her marriage to the King.

Sansa had spent all morning in a fit of hysterical crying, she laid on her bed debating wether or not she should simply fling herself from her balcony. It was not surprising when Lady Tander and her daughter asked if she was well. Though, she just could not understand it. _How did he know? Why isn't my head on a spike?_

As everyone gathered outside the Sept in the midday sun, she first saw The King as she stepped out from her litter. He looked quite majestic, in a splendid gold doublet with a purple velvet sash draped from one shoulder. His sword - widows wail - was gleaming, the jewels on the pommel twinkling as he turned. But Joffery had paid her no mind…much to her relief. All of the eyes were fixed firmly on the new beautiful Queen, as were his own. The bride was lovely in ivory silk and Myrish lace, her skirts dusky rose and decorated with floral patterns, picked out in seed pearls. As Renly's widow, she might have worn the Baratheon colors, gold and black, yet she came to them a Tyrell, in a maiden's cloak made of a hundred cloth-of-gold roses sewn to green velvet. Sansa found herself staring, the way no lady should, feeling something you might call jealousy. 

None of that mattered now. It was Sandor Clegane she wanted to see, her stomach had knotted just thinking his name. _He is still no where to be seen._ She knew she would have spotted his tall ominous frame by now, but her eyes refused to stop searching every corner of the Sept. Her eyes darted from face to face as they entered, praying to the Gods that one would be his. 

It had all happened so suddenly that morning, some part of her had almost believed that Lord Baelish's words were just some cruel jape - at least she had wanted them to be. But with every turning second she knew it more and more to be true, what other reason would there be for him not attending? A prickling pang of fear went up the back of her neck as she knew it to all be true, and she must have let out a  sigh a little too loudly.

"My Lady, are you sure you are well?" Her imp husband spoke up to her as they took there spot in crowd. She had hardly taken any notice of him, other than a forced smile as she knelt for him to kiss her cheek outside. 

Sansa nodded stiffly, never once looking down at him. There was a long and awkward silence, they both stared ahead at the new royal pair stepping up onto the marble plaza.

"My Lady, I had hoped we may have spoken this morning, I wanted only to apologise for my behaviour, our wedding night. I trust Podrick relayed my message to you?"

She took a breath, careful of her response.

"He did, My Lord. Though, I am afraid I was feeling quite unwell when I woke this morning."

She thought of Peter Baelish and the way he had held her hand across the table, it made her stomach churn. _He took pleasure in it. He took pleasure in telling me that The Hound was as good as dead._ She could see it in the way his eyes had sparkled. She had seen the way he had looked at her, eyes learing at her from afar. He had wanted her for himself.  _'It is all these bloody men want, King or Beggar. It clouds there already tiny minds. Remember that and use it as a weapon, my dear.'_  It was something Lady Olenna had once told her, words that had stuck firmly in her mind. Those words were not unlike Cersei Lannister's, "Tears are not a woman's only weapon, the best one is between your legs." At the time Sansa supposed she had been too young to truly understand them, but now, now she had thought it one of the most honest pieces of advice she had ever received.  _Mayhaps this is why he plans to help me?_  Her eyes narrowed, wondering wether or not she could truly trust this man as her mother once had. Sansa had looked for Lord Baelish too, desperately. But still, neither man was to be seen. 

"Ah. No matter. Well..My Lady. It would please me greatly if we could speak together soon?" 

"Yes, my Lord. As you wish."

She turned to her Lord husband finally, flashing a hard smile, and returned her gaze to The King.

Mace Tyrell removed his daughter's maiden cloak tenderly, while Joffrey accepted the folded bride's cloak from his brother Tommen and shook it out with a flourish. Joffery was as tall at thirteen as his bride was at sixteen; he would not require Sandor to lift him as Tyrion had. The thought made her shudder with embarrassment. She remembered how Sandor had lifted him up like a child. _Sandor. If what Lord Baelish says is true, surely he must have a trial? He must be being kept somewhere. In the dungeons._ Sansa found herself thinking to find him. _I am not even sure where they are or how to get to them._ But none of that mattered, she refused to believe he was dead. _As soon as the feast finishes i'll slip away and find him._

Sansa wore her curtsey as thick as iron armour throughout the whole long and tedious wedding ceremony. Though if asked, she could not say much of what had happened there, her mind was too clouded with worry. She only knew it was over when Joffery pulled Lady Margery close for a kiss to seal their marriage. The room roared with applause and cheers from the spectators. _She is loved._ Sansa could see clearly. Some of the ladies had even shed a tear, clutching at their handkerchiefs.

 _"Margery, Queen Margery! Hail the new Queen!"_ You could hear them shouting outside the walls of the sept, cheers rising up into the air. _She will make a much better Queen than I…_ Sansa thought, following the wedding guests back outside. _She can have that pleasure._

She was wearing Ser Dontos' necklace, as Lord Baelish had suggested. Yet she still found it a very odd thing to say at such a time. She reached up to touch it to make sure it was still around her neck - strangely it gave her strength. 

Joffrey and Margaery stood surrounded by Kingsguard atop the steps that fronted on the broad marble plaza. Ser Addam and his gold cloaks held back the crowd, while the statue of King Baelor the Blessed gazed down on them benevolently. Sansa and her dawf husband had no choice but to queue up with the rest to offer their congratulations. She kissed Margaery's fingers and wished her every happiness, as did Tyrion. Thankfully, there were others behind them waiting their turn, so they did not need to linger long.

 _Good, at least that is over and done with._ She thought climbing back into the stuffy litter. It had been sitting in the sun and inside had gotten awfully hot. As the carriage lurched into motion she waited for her new husband to make awkward conversation.

"I had been thinking that when the roads are safe again, we might journey to Casterly Rock. Far from Joffrey and my sister. It would please me to show you the Golden Gallery and the Lion's Mouth, and the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and I played as boys. You can hear thunder from below where the sea comes in."

She raised her eyes to meet his ownmismatched ones.

I shall go wherever my lord husband wishes."

  
"I had hoped it might please you, my lady."

  
"It will please me to please my lord."

  
His mouth tightened.

Needless to say the rest of the journey was much quieter, which pleased her greatly. She was trying to gather her thoughts. _I need to make a plan. I need to know whats happening._ When Sansa had returned to her chambers to dress for the feast, she sat and stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering when she had become this woman that was sat in front of her. 

 _I'll wait until the bedding,_  She thought. _When everyone is good and drunk. Thats when i'll go and find him. Thats when i'll go and find Sandor. I must know the truth._

 

  


	15. A feast for all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry this has taken so long, I must have rewritten it a million times. Still not entirely happy with it but hey, I want to start the next bit because its getting gooooood. Also, Ive re-written a lot of the previous chapters. Nothing plot changing - just in my opinion - they are done much better, especially some of the earlier chapters I wrote a couple years back. So if you fancy a re-read, go for it. Thanks for all the feedback too guys! Your awesome.

**SANDOR**

 

"There was enough in there to kill a fuckin' horse."

"A hundred fucking horses."

"Well.. what do we do now?"

"Finish the job."

"But the point was to poison him. So it wouldn't leave a trace."

There was a pause, someone was shuffling around.

"Here, try pour some more down his neck."

"Your having a fuckin' laugh int ya? He's still alive."

"He can't move, you idiot."

"Still...."

"Scared are we Harry?"

"Don't say my name!"

"Ha! Look at him. He ain't gonna be blabberin' to anyone is he?"

"You do it."

"No."

"Just do it."

"Fuck off."

"He's the Hound..."

"Exactly, quick before someone comes..."

He felt two clammy hands push down on his forearms, then a pair of knees press down on his thighs.

"Just do it! I've got him.."

Something cold touched his lip. 

The Hound gave neither boy a chance. With what little strength he could muster, he grabbed the first boys throat between his fingers and snapped his neck. The crunchy clicking sound made him snarl a smile. 

The second boy froze, eyes wide in terror as his friend fell lifeless beside him. He tried to get up to run, but it was too late. The Hounds heavy gauntleted hand wrapped tight around his neck and squeezed the life out of his lungs.

As he loosened his grip, the boy fell with a _thump_ , next to his pal. _Scrawny little things._  One still had his eyes open. Sandor recognised their faces, young boys maybe on their thirteenth name day. Kitchen boys, stables boys. It made no matter. He knew those faces. They had no reason to kill him, they dared not. _Who had paid them?_  That was the question. _Who wanted him dead?_

He pushed himself up just enough to see them properly, but collapsed back onto the hard stone floor. They had moved him. Somewhere. It was dark and dank. Small. _A tunnel?_ He tried to get up again but couldn't move. His legs lay useless underneath him, numb. He could taste something that might have been blood. His ears were ringing. 

_What the fuck..._

Sandor tried to speak, but instead let out a spit fuelled grunt.

 _They know._ _Not Joffery. No, the little cunt would have paraded me about and tortured me first._

He desperately tried to push himself up off of the floor but his arms couldn't bare the weight. 

_Fuck._

The room was spinning, he couldn't see. It was blurry again. Then dark. So very dark.

 

**SANSA**

 

She let her Lord husband take her by the arm and escort her from her chambers to join the river of silk, satin, and velvet flowing toward the throne room. Some guests had gone inside to find their places on the benches already, but others were milling in front of the doors, enjoying the unseasonable warmth of the afternoon. Tyrion had led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies - _Or lies,_ as she preferred to call them.

She told Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding much better, then complimented Elinor Tyrell on her gown, she questioned Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles and kissed the fingers of Joffery's hand. All wearing a beautifully constructed smile while the heart inside her chest was breaking with every single breath. _My skin is porcelain, ivory, steel._ She said it over and over in her mind, almost like a chant. Joffery was near, she could feel his eyes devouring her. _He cannot know._   _Be brave._

"Have you been crying again?" Joff sneered at her, as her lips left his ringed finger. "You look dreadful. All puffy around your eyes."

"Only tears of joy, my King. It was such a beautiful ceremony. Much better than our own, if I may say so."

"Yes. Yes it was." He shifted his eyes to Tyrion and narrowed them warily. 

"You were too drunk to do the deed then I take it, Uncle?"

"Forgive me my King, you are quite right. I am just a drunken little monkey."

Her husband beamed.

"Better than you deserve, anyway. My _unwanted_ leftovers." Joffery leeched his eyes up and down her body.

"...You can bed her or no, I keep telling my Grandfather she's baron, as much as he disagrees with it."

"I do hope you bless Queen Margery with a son before the night is out, your Grace."

Lord Tyrion seemed to stand a little taller.

"Of course I will." He spat, much like a child. "I am The King."

"And let us pray that there will soon be many little Joffery's running around the castle, dear nephew. A thought to behold." 

Much to her relief his presence quickly left them, as his new bride urged them both inside.

"Don't listen to that boy. You look quite exquisite, child, if a little out of sorts." Lady Olenna Tyrell told her when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did.

"The wind has been at your hair, though." The little old woman reached up and fussed at the loose strands, tucking them back into place and straightening Sansa's necklace.

"I was very sorry to hear about your losses," she said as she tugged and fiddled.

"Your brother was a terrible traitor, I know, but if we start killing men at weddings they'll be even more frightened of marriage than they are presently. There, that's better." Lady Olenna smiled. "I am pleased to say I shall be leaving for High garden the day after next. I have had quite enough of this smelly city, thank you. Perhaps you would like to accompany me for a little visit, whilst the men are off having their war? I shall miss my Margaery so dreadfully, and all her lovely ladies. Your company would be such sweet solace."

  
"You are too kind, my lady." said Sansa, turning to Tyrion. "But my place is with my lord husband."

Both Lord Tyrion and Lady Olenna gave a forced smile. 

 _They are much to smart to believe such lies._ She placed a hand on Lord Tyrions shoulder for effect. Sansa would have much preferred to slip a hand in the nook of his arm, but her dress would have wrinkled with all the bending.

"Of course it is dear, such a good wife you will make. Count your blessings little lord, she's quite splendid this one. I do hope you don't plan on keeping her locked away as her first husband did. Such a beautiful face should see more of the world. The offer will always stand, my dear." She looked at Tyrion and raised her wrinkled brows.

Her imp husband shuffled uncomfortably. Whether he was at a loss for words or simply holding his tongue, she was not sure. Perhaps he was thinking of some witty, well constructed reply. _Most like. Perhaps he was not_ _lost for words after all. When has Lord Tyrion ever been lost for words?_

"If you will excuse us, Lady Olenna, it is time we were in our places." He gestured her away, with a hard stare. 

"Forgive a silly old woman, my lord, I did not mean to steal your lovely wife. Of course, you pair were only wed last night. I'm certain that you simply cannot keep your hands off each other. Dragged from your bed, I imagine. Ah, to be a newlywed, and so _in love_ again." 

She did not try to hide the sarcasm.

"Yes. Yes. _So_ in love." He reiterated, with a smile that looked almost painful.

"It has dawned on me however, it must be rather difficult."

"Difficult how? My lady."

"All the little Lannister - Stark baby making. The girl is rather tall for her age. Will you have to fetch some sort of stool beforehand? "

A blush crept up Sansa's neck.

The look they gave one another lasted far longer than it should have.

"The Gods give with one hand, and take with the other. " Is all he said. Lord Tyrion done little to hide is anger.

"Now as I said, My Lady, we must press on..."

This time her husband successfully led them away and into the enormous throne room where the feast would be held. The already grand hall had been absolutely transformed. Inside was quite magnificent, each wall a multitude of silk drapes and gilded flowers. From the high ceiling, long silk streamers of Baratheon gold, Lannister crimson, and Tyrell green rippled gently as the breeze blew in from the open door. Along each side stood all manner of musicians; drummers and pipers and fiddlers, strings and horns and skins. They were playing softly, Sansa had to strain her ears to hear the tune over all the chatter. The room was so large that everything seemed to echo. As she slowly walked the length of the hall, her feet were kissed by rose petals and lavender, scattered across the floor. When they reached the dais, Cersei embraced Margaery and kissed her cheeks. Lord Tywin did the same, and then Lancel and Ser Kevan. Joffrey received loving kisses from the bride's father and his two new brothers, Ser Loras and Ser Garlan. As they took their seats next to Lord Tywin, Cersei, and Tommen, Tyrion clearly still annoyed, muttered about whether or not Lord Luther Tyrell had indeed ridden off that cliff intentionally. 

As everyone settled into their seats, Sansa took another moment to search for Sandor and Peyter among the swarm of faces before her. _This is useless_. She thought. Nethertheless, she persisted. If they _were_ there, she was sure she would have spotted them by now, every candle in the castle seemed to have been brought out into the hall. At the other end, the outside daylight was dwindling, but within, fire lit up the faces of every man, woman and child. It was beautiful, and again much grander than her own wedding. She supposed this was due to the Tyrell's generous input. It was clear it had become somewhat of a contest between them both, _which family has the most gold._

Sansa looked over at all of the Tyrell family stood chattering together, smiles stretched across their faces.Jewelled fingers and fabulous gowns. _How pleasant it must be, to still have all those you hold dear._ With Father, Mother and Robb dead, she had started to believe that she was the only Stark left. Her whole family extinct. Joffery had her believe Theon killed Bran and little Rickon, set fire to their bodies and hung them up outside Winterfell, for all to see. She could not believe he would do such a thing. He was almost a brother to her. _I cannot believe it. I musn_ _'t. I cannot give up hope._  Though, it gave her a heavy heart. She smoothed her skirts.

Heralds called out all the High Lords and Ladies names, gesturing to their whereabouts. Still, Lord Baelish's name was not mentioned, which she found awfully odd. _It is not as though he is missing, but as though they knew he would not be here. I wonder if the same is for the Hound?_

Then, when the King and Queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to lead a prayer.

"let the cups be filled! And a feast for all!!!" King Joffery proclaimed, beaming from ear to ear.

As they waited for the first dish to come out, the Tyrells fool - Moon boy - attempted a cartwheel and fell flat on his face. Sansa watched Lady Margery on the high table giggle softly, then whisper in Joffery's ear. The King proceeded to throw several pitted dates at him, cackling as he did.

Sansa watched with a forced smile. It had started to make her cheeks ache. She thought of _Her Florian_ , Ser Dontos. _Oh, how the Gods do take pleasure in mocking me. I pray for a knight and they send me a fool._ Still she had heard nothing from him. She supposed he was dead, the rumour was true. _Dead like everyone else._ She fought down the hard lump rising in her throat. _I was stupid to think a man like him could save me._

 _The Hound was right, only strong arms and sharp steel could do such a thing._ She imagined his torso, thick with muscle, pressed hard against her chest. She had never felt so safe, as she did in that moment. His arms wrapped around her tight, forcing her to look at him. A prickle of nerves trailed up her neck. _It is ever so warm in here._ She thought, shifting in her seat. She could not think of the night they had shared, it filled her with a flurry of emotions, _joy and fear_. She must not let the mask slip, not now. She clapped softly in her lap as Moon boy juggled the dates on one leg.

The first dish was a small slab of pork, smothered in a sweet apple sauce and sprinkled with chopped almonds. It was a little chewy, but she supposed it must be quite a challenge to cook so many dishes at one time. Still, she pushed down several small mouthfuls before laying her gilded spoon back down upon the table. Sansa side eyed her husband, chewing loudly and mopping up every morsel with a loaf of bread, as if he had not eaten properly in weeks. She could not help but find him grotesque. 

Grey-bearded Hamish the Harper announced that he would preform 'for the ears of Gods and men', a song near everyone in the Seven Kingdoms would have heard before. His fingers moved gracefully along the strings of the high harp, and filled the throne room with such sweet sound.

Much to Sansa's joy, the hall went quiet to listen as he played for quite some time. She looked around at the familiar faces beside her, at the groups of pretty painted faced women chattering in hushed tones, husbands kissing the necks of their wives, old fat Lords slapping some poor serving girls bum. _So many faces._   _So many names_. It came apparent to her just how disconnected she felt from every other person in that room. She wondered if The Hound ever feels the same. _Or whether he chooses to feel that way._

Shortly after, out came some skewered blood sausage, buttered pease and roasted parsnips, displayed beautifully on a silver plate. While cutting into her sausage, they watched four pyromancers conjure up a beautiful purple flame that danced in swirls, high into the rafters. She watched it unfold with wide eyes.

Next was slivers of swan, poached in saffron and peaches. Sansa tried to force down another bite, but her nerves were tightening her tummy. There were several dogs circling the tables, begging for scraps. _Perhaps I could try and slip one my plate without anyone seeing._ The next course of beef broth and honey'd wine was enough to make her retch.

But Sansa smiled and nodded, just as she was bid, and watched the long line of entertainers jump and sing and dance across the dais. Soon it was full night outside the windows, and the guests had become increasingly drunk. Even with all the entertainment, Sansa was watching, but not really seeing. The array of musicians and instruments, the same. Hearing but not particularly listening. Out came a spiced pear porridge. A horrendous dish that Sansa had tried once before, and could only push around her plate.

"You look pale, My Lady?" Tyrion asked with heavy eyes, trying to take her hand. She squirmed away.

"I am quite well, thank you for asking, My Lord."

The Question caught the attention of the King.

"I need more wine, Uncle, care to fill my cup? We can make it a Lannister wedding tradition."

Joffery sniggered, along with Cersei behind a jewelled hand.

"Such an honour as that was your Grace, this is a new doublet. It would be a terrible shame to stain it."

The rest of the guests laughed uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Moonboy marched over to the dais, picked up Ser Kevan's goblet of wine and dumped it right over his own head, making the hall roar with hysterical laughter.

"Hahaha...Even better Uncle. Why don't you be my _fool_?" 

The hall grew quiet with anticipation, eager for another embarrassing spectacle for her husband to withstand.

"Alas, I am already a fool. Be it not a very funny one."

"Of course you are. Just look at that funny face!"

Joffery looked to his new bride with a gloating grin.

 _Your such a child._ Sansa thought. _Saying nasty things to impress your lady wife. Making everyone else feel less, so you can feel more._

"The Gods could not make us all so fair as you, your Grace."

"Spare me your compliments Uncle. I want to see you dance."

"Gladly, your grace." 

Tyrion stood, turning to Sansa, meaning for her to take his hand. Embarrassed and unsure, she hesitated to take it. 

"No, I meant dance as my fool. Butterbumps, give my Uncle your motley. I want him to wear it."

Moon boy and Butterbumps both stripped as naked as the day they were born, much to the delight and shock of the guests. One took his clothes above his head and swung it around while doing a little dance, revealing a fat jiggling belly and a little pink _thing,_ dangling between his legs. Sansa quickly averted her eyes. Again the hall grew full of giggles and snorts, one of the ladies fainted. When Sansa returned her gaze to the King, she saw that the pink and green motley trousers were hanging over Lord Tyrion's face, with the entire throne room screaming in merriment.

"Put it on."

Margaery placed a gentle hand on his arm, in a futile attempt to stop him going further.

"Did you mishear me Uncle? Put the fools clothes on."

There was a long and still silence, so tense the air could have been cut with a butter knife. _Don't do it._

Finally the dwarf pulled on the green and pink silk, drowning his tiny body and nearly tripping on the hem.

"Come out here then, lets have a look at you."

Submissively he waddled out from behind the table and in front of the guests.

The laughter only grew louder and more hysterical.

"The fit is a little off...perhaps you should take off your doublet first."

She saw her husbands jaw clench as his teeth gritted together. After a time, he tugged and wriggled underneath his new costume, struggling to remove it.

"Take the motley off first Uncle, come on. Don't be shy!"

Several people far away were cackling with laughter, it bounced off the walls and rung in her ears. He was asking him to strip naked, in front of - what might as well been - the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms. Her husband removed the motley quickly, clearly happy to be rid of it. Then... _He cannot._ She saw his tiny fat fingers slowly raise to his collar, and gingerly start to undo the first button of his shirt. She shut her eyes. 

_No..You can't. Tell him no..._

She began to pray for the mother to take pity on him.

"My love, LOOK! THE PIE!!!" Margaery shrieked, clapping her hands together in a frenzy.

Joffery took his Queen by the hand, seemingly distracted. The guests stood, shouting and applauding and smashing their cups together as the great pie made its way through the hall. It was wheeled in on a cart, by several serving men and proud cooks. Two yards across it was, crusty and golden brown. Sansa had never see anything quite like it.

 _Perhaps one of Margaery's brothers will be in there,_  She tried her best not to picture Robbs rotting cheeks. _Maybe_   _he'll make her eat it._

Tyrion scuttled away and pulled himself back into his chair with a look of sheer relief. 

"Little bastard..." He whispered in her ear.

"That was ill done." Jaime Lannister lent forward to say, in a notably hushed tone. 

"Thank you so much for vouching that, brother."

Joffery and Maragery joined hands again in front of the dais to lift his glistening sword, _widows wail_ , and swung it down together in a golden arc. When the crust broke, it scattered pastry everywhere, bursting forth a dozen doves swirling white feathers in all directions. The King took his Queen in his arms and whirled her around merrily.

A serving girl placed a slice of steaming hot pidgeon pie in front of them, and covered it with a spoon of lemon cream. 

Joffery and his Queen fed each other a mouthful off their golden forks. Sansa suddenly found herself feeling quite sick.

"Uncle, we need some entertainment for this course. Do carry on! I wish to see you in this beautiful garb."

She felt Tyrion look to her aid, though she ignored him. _You truly are a fool if you think I will help you_.

"More wine." Joff spluttered, filling his mouth with another piece of pie. 

He drank deep, sending little red rivers dripping down his chin and onto his velvet chest.

 _Kof, kof._ "Its a little dry." _Kof._

As he spoke he spat out lumps of food onto the floor in front them.

Margaery looked at him in concern. "Your Grace?"

"Its, _kof_ , nothing, just..." He broke off into a fit of crazed coughing and spluttering. 

"Uncle. The motley... _kof_...put it on. _Kof, kof, kof_.."

Lord Tywin rose to his feet. "Your Grace, are you well?"

"Its, _kof,_ the pie, _kof kof_..." He took another drink, but all the wine came spewing back out, as it had that night in his chamber.

"He's choking!" Queen Margaery screamed, her Grandmother quickly moving to her side.

Joffery dropped his plate, crashing it down into pieces on the floor.

"Help the poor boy!" The Queen of Thornes screeched, in a voice much bigger than her size.

"I can't, _kof_ , bre-  _kof kof kof kof_ ...."

"Help him! Help your King!"

Ser Osmund Kettleblack ripped open The Kings collar.

A terrible shrieking noise came from his throat, he fell hard onto the floor. Ser jaime stopped his head from cracking open, clutching him in his arms.

"Water! Give him water!" someone shouted frantically.

Ser Garlen rushed to his aid and flipped him on his front, pounding a fist on his back, over and over again. The crowd forming around them both yelled useless advice at each other from across the room. Grand Maester Pycelle was shouting for someone to gather his potions for him. _Kof Kof Kof._  Ser Meryn put The King on his back and tried to stick his fingers down his throat. _Kof Kof Kof Kof._ His face was turning a peculiar shade of purple. _Kof Kof_. Joffery began to claw at his neck with his nails, tearing bloody gouges in the flesh. Sansa's stomach lurched at the sight. _I can't watch._ She suddenly felt light headed and faint. _He is dying._ She realised, stunned.

In the chaos, she cannot remember getting to her feet, but she was walking, running even. Dogs were barking, children were screaming and the guests were shoving one another to get a better look. Others were trying to get away, pushing at each other to fit through the great iron door. Someone else had fainted, she remembered stepping over their skirts. ' _He's dead!'_  she heard someone cry.

Suddenly a strong hand was around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. Then the other clasped over her mouth, hard. Someone was pulling her from behind, dragging her from her feet.

"Come with me if you want to go home." They said.

She was being lifted up.

 _No._ She thought, terrified.

_The Hound, I must find the Hound._

  

 

 


End file.
